Risky Bassness
by kikis2
Summary: vdB. AU. The van der Woodsen-Bass merger never ended. And that may not be a good thing. I can't summarize, so just read lol.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: vdB household is alive and kickin'. The timeline is out of wack (read: nonexistent) and to that I say AUAUAUAU!**

**Warning: This is not a fluffy family piece. This chapter is rated K+/PG, adult themes and Chuck's POV. **

Chuck was unsure whether to be amused or annoyed at how regular these family brunches had become. The mere thought of the Bass's and the van der Woodsen's having a routine—a family orientated one—would have been a joke only a year or two ago. Even Bart Bass had his assistant schedule in time for the event.

He idly wondered if while listening to Eric's anecdotes and Lily's shopping itinerary, his father counted the minutes in dollar bills he wouldn't make.

Like clockwork, minutes before the family would break apart and the table would be cleared, Serena padded down the stairs.

"Good morning. Serena." Lily's tone was full of resigned acceptance.

Serena bounded around the table, placing a quick kiss on her mother's cheek. "Morning mom. Bart." She nodded in her stepfather's direction, a bright smile making the reserved greeting warm.

His father returned her smile, albeit in his own uptight manner.

She wrapped her arms around Eric's neck, simultaneously stealing a piece of toast from youngest van der Woodsen's plate.

"Morning," Eric mumbled around a bite of food, unfazed by the disappearance of his food.

Chuck was completely prepared this time. He could move, duck, swerve—Chuck felt a rough hand brush along his head, nimble fingers destroying his carefully constructed hair.

_Damn those freakishly long arms!_

"Your company is the same pleasure as always, sis," he smirked unpleasantly at her. As usual his dark, _dangerous,_ he amended, looks had no affect whatsoever on Serena.

Hair tousled and barefooted, she grabbed an apple from the table. She was wearing an oversized St Jude's sweater and boy-leg pants, which showed long expanses of tanned legs as she leaned over the table.

Chuck looked his fill, perversely satisfied at the way his father's brow lowered in the most familiar look of disapproval. He was never going to win approval, so it was more productive to never try. In fact, it was more productive to aim for disapproval that way he'd accomplish something.

"So which former member of the swim team went cold this winter?" He smiled knowingly at Serena's attire.

Since graduation Serena had returned to her former glory, or so he hoped. He was reasonably sure that one more Gossip Girl blast about Brooklyn Jr's low-class relationship with his even lower-class girlfriend would probably send Serena to the nearest tabletop, her bra still in the back seat of some minor league baseball player's Camero.

"Charles," his father warned quietly.

For some reason, Serena's misadventures were a no-go topic during breakfast (or ever). It was rather disappointing, because it beat talking about corporate takeovers or whatever piece of pop art Lily had her eyes on.

"I'm sure none of them went as cold as you." Serena quipped.

Blair had refused to talk to him for the past two months, due to some slightly inappropriate banter with a cocktail waitress that she thought she overheard. He'd tried everything his credit card could produce to win her back, but the woman was steel. Global warming wouldn't stand a chance against Waldorf's cold shoulder.

"I'm _sure_ they didn't." He let his eyes travel down her body, a salacious smile playing over his lips. Because bringing Blair up had been a low blow (and the view really was pleasant).

She threw herself into the seat between him and his father, wiping apple juice from her lips with the back of her palm. "I'm sure _you'd_ be more knowledgeable about the condition of our swim team's bodies." She watched him from lowered lashes, an irresistible grin spreading over her lips.

It was a not-so-subtle swipe at the days when seducing the athletics' team had been one of his favourite hobbies. He repressed a matching grin, going back to his coffee.

Lily shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I think I'll head downtown to a few small galleries."

His father's jaw tightened and Serena's eyes fixed on her apple, as if there was nothing else at the table.

"I should get to the office," his father responded dutifully.

Eric flashed a slightly bitter smile at the table before grabbing his school bag.

In an instant their almost-family broke into individual pieces, as if it had never even existed. And Chuck remembered why he hated these things so much. The facade of it was all so terribly thin.

He felt sorry for Eric the most. Chuck genuinely liked his step-brother, with his sensitive nature and dry humour. The kid had the van der Woodsen looks, the van der Woodsen charm, but none of that destruction they wore like the headiest scent.

He suspected that was kept on the inside.

Chuck and Serena were the only ones left at the table. "You think Lily's going to bang Brooklyn Senior today?"

Serena's eyes met his, not completely shocked, but she obviously hadn't known that Chuck knew. "I doubt it," she said softly. "They'll have some disguised flirting over art, mom can reminisce over her wild-child days, Rufus will feel like an almost star again, and then mom will go buy something from a legitimate gallery."

"And my father will grab the first intern he sees and bang her beside the coffee machine."

They both desperately needed this to be a joke. Because if this was the serious part of their life, that would be too pathetic for words.

"Beside the coffee machine? In the middle of the office?" Serena asked sceptically.

"That's the way the Bass men roll."

Serena laughed and he feigned a hurt look, but couldn't resist a small smile. If Serena was laughing then things couldn't be as messed-up as they looked.

"I don't think Bart is sleeping with anyone at the office."

Chuck raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Serena really shouldn't be this naive. "Are you high?" That had to be it, because Serena _wasn't_ that naive.

"Not yet." She shrugged. "I think he really wants this family thing to work out."

Serena knew his father's feelings? When did that happen? And since when did Bart Bass have feelings? Feelings not stimulated by jailbait beside the coffee machine that was.

"Poor Bart." Chuck said scathingly. This whole family experiment was pretty much DOA.

Serena's eyes flitted away from his. "Yeah, poor Bart."

Chuck tried to read her expression and couldn't. Maybe she was thinking that they were the sad ones. Lily and Bart would have their play time, then come back and play house. Eric would do his best to smile. But him and Serena—they didn't know how to pretend that well. Serena would bury herself in martinis and boys and Chuck would spend his time shoving fistfuls of notes at bleach-blonde girls with broken eyes.

Well that's what he suspected she was doing. But she'd certainly been subtle about it all. Gossip Girl had caught a few photos of her in bars with friends from high school, but it hadn't exactly been cold-shower-worthy stuff.

Her cell's message tone went off and with a quick wave she had disappeared down the hall.

Chuck grimaced looking at the time. He'd been working for his father since leaving school and it was becoming increasingly clear that he and his father couldn't spend another minute together.

Those floor to ceiling windows were a bad choice for the office. He visualised throwing his father out of them several times a day. The fact that no other employee had tried was a testament to his father's money making prowess, that, or the inventors of bullet proof glass truly were heroes.

He headed to the study to pick up his proposal folders.

"No, it was the right one. He got them all. It wasn't your fault." Serena's voice was a little too firm. The way it always got when she was feeling unsteady.

The door to the study was open a crack. Pressing himself against the wall he peered into his father's office. He couldn't see Serena, but he could see the safe, which was wide open. The files inside it, always so meticulously ordered, in disarray.

"I have it."

He heard the sound of paper being ripped. A few seconds later Serena's breath sounded broken and harsh. She waited a few moments till her breathing calmed to speak again.

"Thanks for your help, but can you just forget about all this?"

Chuck opened the door, silently easing into the room. Serena sat behind his father's desk, holding on to a letter with one hand and her cell phone against her ear with the other.

Serena's eyes met his, calm and dull. He was a little disappointed when she didn't look guilty, but disappointment was quickly overshadowed by concern.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

Serena spoke into the phone, sill facing him. "I'm okay, but I need to go...Bye." She snapped her phone shut.

Without speaking to him, she closed up the letter. Her attention was clearly focused inwards.

"Who was on the phone?" He was too curious not to ask.

"Carter," she replied absently.

He had no idea why she was so set on wasting her time with losers. He hadn't even suspected she could do worse than Brooklyn, and then Baizen had turned up.

She reached the safe in a few long strides. Not bothering to rearrange the files, she just shut the door and keyed in the lock.

"How'd you get the code to the safe?" He couldn't bring himself to ask _what's wrong?_ So he asked inane questions, hoping she'd tell him anyway.

She spun on him, arms crossing over her breasts, crumpled letter still in her hand. "I'm not an idiot."

"I know that."

"Just because I don't spend my time bringing about a new world order doesn't mean I can't find out a few numbers," she continued as if he hadn't spoken.

It wasn't really a few numbers. It was breaching Bart Bass's security measures. His father made NASA look lax.

He decided it was probably best to just let it go, for now anyway. He could count the times Serena had been truly angry on one hand, and it had never ended pretty.

He walked to the leather sofa in the far corner. Sprawling into it, he watched the blonde till the last of her mood seemed to disappear. Her eyes kept focusing on nothing, as if it was a struggle to even remember he was in the room. Serena never could hold a grudge, but this was never about her being angry with him anyway.

He patted his lap suggestively. "Come, tell Uncle Chucky your woes."

Chuck was pleased when a little sorrow in her expression was replaced with amusement. "I'll sit if you promise never to call yourself that again."

"Done." He'd think up something sleazier later.

She collapsed beside him, legs automatically folding beneath her. He lifted his arm and her eyes went cautious. She'd created the new her by imagining lines. Lines she'd meet, lines she wouldn't cross.

He hated those fucking lines.

He cocked his head with a smile that said he'd seen her naked and at her worst. She moved under his arm, moulding herself into his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Chuck's chest felt odd and tight and he immediately regretted his actions.

This had once been _them_. Dragged along to some soiree by their respective best friends, they'd sit in a dark corner, surrounded by a few of their minions, mostly the ones too clingy to socialise by themselves. He'd make pervy remarks and nasty observations about the other guests (just so she'd laugh). She'd come up with outrageous ways to pass the time, or get the cops called (just so he wouldn't be bored).

But there was no _them_ now. Queen S had left. This was _Serena_, with her steady boyfriends and law abiding ways. He didn't know her, didn't always like her either.

Before he could shrug her off, she laid her head against his arm. And he couldn't move, because it looked like S, it felt like S, and he'd never been able to walk away from _her_ before.

"Tell me what happened." His voice was gruffer than he intended.

She stilled and for a second he didn't think she'd respond. Wordlessly she handed him the crumpled letter in her hand.

He read the address on the back. He unfolded it quickly skimming the contents. His jaw clenched spasmodically. _Keith van der Woodsen: asshole extraordinaire_.

The letter was addressed to Lily. It explained how Serena had tried to contact him, and expressed his displeasure over this fact.

He knew very little about Serena's father. He'd met him only a few times. The blonde man with sparkling blue eyes, and slow smile was magnetic, even to a primary schooler. He was the sole heir to the van der Woodsen shipping company. Despite losing a little of its lustre over the last century the name—of the empire and the family—remained a powerful one.

"Carter helped you find him?"

"Yeah, he hired a guy who found dad and I sent him a couple letters. He didn't respond, but Carter's guy found out that a letter had been sent here." She looked up at him, with the same dull eyed expression. "Bart's kind of diabolical."

_Indeed_, but that was a puzzle for another day.

Serena would probably be upset if her father had an unfortunate accident. He couldn't even sabotage the guys business, because that would just hurt Serena and Eric. He'd have to be content with knowing that one day Serena would inherit half the guys company and she'd probably expect the ships to come with casinos or something.

His arm tightened around her. "It has been my experience that, with few exceptions, fathers are rather overrated."

He repressed the same aching rage that had haunted him for too many years to remember. Why were families so fucked up? Why did Eleanor do nothing but criticise? Why was the Captain scum? Why was his father the nastiest piece of work he'd ever met?

The only thing he could give her was the truth, and the truth was that she was a thousand times too good for her father. The man didn't deserve children, and he certainly didn't deserve Serena and Eric.

"You don't need him, S." He was angry for her. He wanted nothing more than to make her smile again.

And so she was his S again.

**End Note: This was mainly an intro chapter, just setting up the background/imaginary timeline. **


	2. Chapter 2

Serena took steady strides in the direction she hoped was forwards. Her arms were laden with accessories, Chloe scarves and Marc Jacobs bags filled her vision. It was almost inevitable when the toe of her Viktor & Rolf boot was caught. She teetered unsteadily for a second before losing the battle with gravity.

She tumbled forward with a small squeal, falling face first into layers of Italian leather and a lean chest.

"Hmph," the body grunted, struggling not to fall back.

Serena recovered quickly, pulling herself up after checking that nothing had fallen on the ground.

With his St Jude's uniform and wide eyes Eric looked about twelve.

She wrinkled her nose, a playful smile covering her lips. "Oops."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Uh uh, puppy-dog eyes might get you out of trouble with mom and the state of New York, but I'm a little too precious to be lost in a freak accessory avalanche." Mirth lit up her younger brother's eyes.

Serena gave a small pout. "What's it going to cost me?"

"Lunch. A real one too. I can't eat another jar of Nutella."

Since starting work at _Elle_, she and Eric had been having lunch almost every other day. She never asked how he got off school grounds, having a deep personal sympathy for those unable to waste six-hours of the day locked up in a classroom.

Serena scoffed. "Hey, you were not raised to disrespect hazelnut-chocolaty-awesomeness, mister. And besides, I _always _buy lunch."

"That's because _some of us _have disposable income," he said, eyeing her pointedly.

She rolled her eyes. "As opposed to the _some of us _forced to live off our family's meagre millions?"

"_Exactly_."

Serena shoved the pile of accessories into her brother's hands. He knew the drill well enough to return the items to wardrobe, making sure Kathy ticked off everything.

She hurried to grab her bag and tell Jane she was on her lunch break. She was lucky she got this job, even though she suspected it had a lot less to do with luck than Bart owning the building.

It felt more like a hobby than anything, she was sure that next semester or the one after would feel more like a college time. Now felt more like limbo. School had ended abruptly, and Gossip Girl's graduation jibe had stung more than she liked to admit. She didn't need a life of glamour and attention; she just didn't know what the alternative felt like. So for the time, she lived in static. No big career moves, no big location moves, and a home balanced uneasily between comfortable and broken.

Eric ate his gnocchi with a fervour that would leave the girls at work sobbing in a bathroom stall. Serena ate slower but with nearly as much relish, always watching her brother's movements from the corner of her eye. It was a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the clashing of folks when Eric attempted to stop his sister's from smuggling his food onto her own plate.

Serena reclined in her chair, as comfortable in the restaurant as she would be in her own lounge. "So what's school like without Blair and her sidekicks?"

"Nature abhors a vacuum. Jenny says second generation mean girls are nearly as bad. She said...Her mom—." Eric focused on the small unlit candle in the middle of the table. "Rufus and Alison's divorce went through."

Serena sat up, not so comfortable anymore.

"Apparently her dad's been rushing the whole thing," he continued blandly.

"Oh," she said inelegantly.

"Yeah."

What could she say? _Hope you didn't get too comfortable?_ _Better find the suitcases_? He knew it all just as well as she did.

Serena watched as he carefully avoided her gaze. He'd made a very un-van der Woodsen like mistake: he'd grown attached.

It was everything she'd been trying to avoid. Treating Bart like a leper hadn't just been to distance herself. She'd though if she made it difficult enough maybe he'd leave them both alone. That had certainly backfired. _Sneaky Basstard_. She'd seen those occasional smiles with Eric, the manly slaps on the back. And if his interaction with her was as far from fatherly as it could be, it was still _way _too close.

Chuck was a different matter all together. He was the only one that had never forgiven her for leaving. His jabs and sleazy remarks that had once been _for_ her were now all aimed _at_ her. She'd gotten sick of trying to freeze him out and now hit back with childish insults every opportunity she got.

When her and Chuck had hung out, Eric was the only other person that Chuck treated like an actual human being.

She'd watched the way he pulled his new baby step-brother under his wing with an ironic tenderness.

It was a bad idea from the start. Sure a part of her knew that he was probably going to corrupt Eric, but a bigger part of her knew that it was better to be corrupted by Chuck than someone else, better to drink with Chuck than without, better to do Chuck's eccies than the creepy bartender's, that sort of thing.

But if that did ever happen she'd tell every escort service in the city that Chuck had the clap.

Now Eric liked Chuck. He was smart enough not to idolise Chuck, but had still found something admirable him. And when their mom dumped Bart for Rufus, they'd leave. Chuck Bass wasn't a middle of the road kind of guy. You were in or you were out. With the exception of the Georgina fiasco and this morning she was definitely out. No matter how much that hurt, she thought it would hurt more to watch Eric go through the same thing.

"Maybe we'll get to move to Brooklyn, see how the other half lives," she deadpanned.

Eric's lips twitched. "I think you've seen enough of Brooklyn up close and personal for the both of us."

**XOXOXOXO**

Chuck lounged against the dining table, bored eyes scanning the room. It was only an hour to midnight when his father had decided to leave work, not wanting to be outdone Chuck had stayed as well. The limo ride home had been a terse silence.

After throwing him one hard glance, his father disappeared up the stairs. He'd been about to leave, one second away from believing his father was going to keep his thoughts to himself for once, when his father re-emerged.

His jacket was gone and both hands were swiftly undoing his tie.

"Liang was a multimillion dollar account," Bart reiterated for the thousandth time.

Chuck clung to the illusion of boredom. "I was aware of that. I was just trying to—"

"Trying isn't good enough! You're a grown man; your life can't continue to be one mistake after another." Steel blue eyes watched him without an ounce of tolerance.

_His life or him?_

He pressed his lips together till the words he thought couldn't escape. He nodded at his father, lips curving into something definitely not a smile. "Of course, it won't happen again."

Chuck Bass backing down. He was so glad Gossip Girl couldn't see him now.

The front door opened cautiously. A blonde head peeked in before ducking out again. The door opened fully. Serena peered at them, her heels in hand, face alight with mischief.

Chuck smirked at her knowingly. For someone with her history, she was terrible at sneaking in.

"Oh," she said as eloquently as usual. She flounced into the dining room, not too upset about being caught.

Chuck noted her dishevelled appearance with a sly leer. Her yellow-blonde hair was a tumble of tangles and her peach coloured dress had ridden up her thighs in such a way that "revealing" would have been far too kind of a descriptor. When she got closer he could smell gin and another man's cologne.

The two Bass men watched as Serena went straight to the dining room, plucking a piece of fruit from the centrepiece. If her steps were straight and her movements precise, it certainly wasn't thanks to any sobriety.

His father's face was devoid of expression, his posture even straighter than usual. Chuck prepared himself for Serena's demise.

"It's a weeknight," his father said in a hard tone.

Serena was concentrating very hard on removing a skin from a banana."I suspected as much," she said not lifting her eyes from the fruit.

"You have work in the morning," Bart continued.

Serena's look was a clear _"duh"._

"When we agreed to letting you stay home and not go to college, there were certain conditions—"

_When they agreed?_ Chuck nearly laughed. Serena had decided and veins in his father's forehead had bulged unattractively.

"Ba-_art_, I'm sleepy," she sang. She flashed him a brilliant smile. "Besides, I have work in the morning. I can't stand around chatting all night." Her primness digressed into drunken giggles.

Bart's expression remained icy for half a minute before slowly morphing into something between tolerance and amusement. "Fine. Goodnight."

"Oh it was," she breathed, contentedly biting into her banana.

Chuck's jaw snapped shut so hard, he felt it echo. His father just let it go. For a short skirt and a smile. It wasn't just insane, it was disappointing. This was _Bart Bass_—he shouldn't be falling for the same antics used to enslave sophomore boys and bouncers.

Bart nodded a dismissal in his direction clearly about to head to bed, but he paused when he reached Serena's side. "I've been impressed by what your supervisor reports. You've really been working hard," he said stiffly.

Chuck could feel his teeth grinding. He'd just worked for eleven hours trying to get some Malaysian asshole to launch his headquarters in New York and gotten a thank you in the form of _why are you such a fuck up?_

And now his father had given his approval to Serena—the van der Bass heir most likely to squander the family fortune on tequila and magic beans.

Serena chewed slowly, eyeing Bart with an expression so cynical it looked wrong on those angelic features.

His father disappeared down the hall without another word.

Chuck found his anger hadn't disappeared with his father. Closing the distance between himself and his step-sister, he eased a finger between the fabric of her dress. His finger slid along the silky skin between her breasts.

Serena's breath hitched. Not in disgust. She opened her mouth and Chuck was sure she was about to make a cutting remark.

"You missed one," he purred, indicating the gaping fabric where a button was undone.

Chuck left, unwilling to see that sliver of skin get covered.

Lying in bed that night, he picked up his bedside phone and, against his better judgement, dialled it. After a few rings the phone was answered. "S?" The groggy voice questioned. "This better be good, S."

He paused at her greeting, realising she must have seen the phone number and assumed.

At the lack of response Blair became worried, any drowsiness vanishing from her voice. "If there's a problem sweety, you—"

"I _do _have a small problem. Well, actually, I've been told it's quite large." He cut in blandly.

There was no response and he wondered if she was about to hang up.

"It's amazing what lies people will tell for a paycheque," she drawled.

"It's more amazing what lies people will tell themselves."

Blair sighed dramatically. "Is there a reason you called at this God-forsaken hour? I mean, apart from the joy you get from destroying whatever small happiness people find."

He didn't know why he called. Blair had slipped through his fingers, but he knew he was the one who let her. She still cared about him, he was sure of it. But he doubted that was enough. Blair didn't give out second chances.

And he'd lost her. He. Lost. And Chuck Bass didn't know how to play the loser.

"Is it true? You and Nathaniel?" He asked before he could think.

"As if that would be any of your business! Maybe you wanted me, but you didn't want everything that came along with it. And now, you're on your own, and that's nobody's fault but yours."

"I know," he agreed, uncertain what part he was agreeing with.

There was a long pause in the conversation, when their breath was the only thing that could be heard. Chuck wondered if she was lying in perfect darkness, imagining the feel of him, the way he was about her.

When Blair spoke again, her voice was quieter. "It's not true."

A small smirk formed on his lips before he could think what the sadness in her voice meant.

She continued in her usual brisk tone. "Oh and Chuck, about your _very_ little problem? _Go fuck yourself_."

The line went dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've been kind of drifting this story, 'cause I was a little uncertain...But, oh well.**

**Warning: Sex, language, all-round inappropriateness. [MA] and I'm super cereal, you guys. Don't come crying to me when your eyes sting from trying to scrub them clean with bleach.**

Serena stared at the unmoving traffic outside her window. Her mother hadn't come home last night. She couldn't remember what her excuse had been, but it had involved a children's hospital and an ice sculpture. She assumed that was code for a loft in Brooklyn and a rugged looking divorcee.

To make this an even more Lilly-esque family scene, her mother roped her, Eric and Chuck into attending MOMA's function to "represent" the family. Serena though it was rather apt to send a depressed youth, future alcoholic, and life-long sexaholic.

She passed her empty glass to Chuck who wordlessly refilled it from the limo's bar fridge. He poured himself another as well.

The ride had been oddly sombre. She and Eric stared out the window while Chuck stared at them. She should have lightened the mood, forced her brother out of his own world, but she couldn't quite find the energy.

She knew he wasn't happy, knew he'd been spending too much time on his own.

"Want one?" Chuck asked, lazily indicating his own glass.

Eric's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he held out a hand. Chuck leaned forward to pass Eric a glass. Intercepting them, Serena snatched the glass from Chuck's grasp. In two gulps she'd downed the dry scotch with a slight grimace.

Eric watched her with a shocked expression.

"What are the rules when mom's out of town?" Serena asked lightly.

A half-smile formed on Eric's lips. "Do as you say, not as you do. And never listen to Chuck." The first half she'd been telling him since he reached junior high. The second was a recent addition.

She no longer felt bad about the hypocrisy, having realised years ago that her brother was just plain _better_. He deserved higher standards. "Uh huh, and remember it, if you don't want to see Chuck drenched in his precious liquor."

She tossed the glass back to Chuck, smiling as a few droplets of scotch rained on his dark blue Ralph Lauren suit. He caught the glass in mid-air.

"Thanks, _sis_. " A deep scowl was etched on his features.

The car finally came to a stop. Stepping out of the limo last, she let Chuck help her, more out of habit than any need. As stupid as it was, she felt pleased to be touching him again, especially in public where he couldn't use his once friendly touch to torment her.

Together they were probably the most eye-catching duo. Her Tony Bowls burnout chiffon gown in scarlet and black and Chuck's brilliant yellow shirt didn't exactly blend into a crowd.

When they entered the museum Serena quickly found Blair and Nate looking at a painting in one of the front rooms. Blair was wearing a Jill Stuart mini, her arm resting on Nate's.

"Ooh, I like it," Serena exclaimed, coming up behind the couple.

Blair made a disgusted sound turning around. "Yes, stealing Buddhist motifs and blending them into annunciation pictures—how _edgy_."

Serena eyed the bright canvas again with its tiny gold Buddha in the centre. "Well, _okay_ then."

Nate gave a lopsided grin. "Hey guys."

Before Serena could reply Blair latched onto her, leading them away from the boys. Serena happily followed her friend, linking their arms together. "I'm so glad you're here. I was already planning a daring escape through the bathroom window."

Blair ignored her, coming to a stop in the emptiest corner.

"Your hair looks amazing." Serena reached up to touch the dark locks held in an intricate chignon. Blair slapped her hand away. Serena giggled, rubbing the back of her hand. She was always amazed by Blair's level of perfection. Her hair was in a messy bun, her nails covered in chipped peach nail polish—being _together_ just wasn't her thing.

Blair settled her hands on slim hips, looking fierce and a little scary to everyone who wasn't Serena. "Enough. Where's Lilly and Bart?"

Serena rolled her eyes, knowing no bathroom window would let her escape from Blair. "I don't know. Bart's working. Supposedly mom's in Maine looking for some ice-sculpting recluse."

Blair's frown deepened. "That's ridiculous. Nobody who matters would live in Maine."

"Uh huh, _that's _what's ridiculous."

"I don't want you staying with that creep." Blair's eyes fixed determinedly on hers.

Serena felt her face heat, really not wanting to get into this. "_Blair_—"

The petite brunette held up a commanding hand. "Don't try to sweet talk your way out of it. Don't act like this is nothing. And don't you _dare _pretend I'm overreacting."

Serena twisted a blonde tendril around her fingers. "I live with him. It's really not like that," she said quietly.

Blair let out a haughty laugh. "S, you were drunk. I was not. _I'm _not the one confused." Blair's hands fell from her hips, her face softening. "Come home with me. Dorota will make your favourite," she tempted.

She knew she should. Knew that if she didn't she'd be stupid all over again. "I'm fine. I'm not a total screw-up."

Blair didn't hide her disbelieving glance. She reached out grabbing Serena's hand that had been tugging at her own hair. "_Please_."

Serena bit her lip, knowing how hard it was for Blair to plead for anything. Stubbornly she shook her head. "Everything will be okay," she lied. She will not be something to _fix_.

Blair threw her hands up dramatically. "Fine," she hissed, spinning on her heel.

Serena waited a second before following. She'd just have to be extra charming. Blair would forgive her.

Eventually.

**XOXOXOXO**

Chuck had convinced Eric to spend the night in 1812 with him. With Lilly gone his father was being more of an ass than usual. The kid could do with some down time. Hash would have been perfect, but when it came to drugs and Eric, Serena was a total _Blair_.

But she hadn't specified anything about entertainment of the naked variety. Chuck rifled through his bedroom in the family's suite, looking for something that would appeal to Eric's decidedly more... narrow taste.

Tonight had been good. Better than good. Nate had been the charming slacker, Blair had been especially uptight and whip-tongued, and Serena had been enchantingly outrageous. It was as if she'd never screwed Nate on a barstool, as if he'd never done Blair in the back of his limo.

Maybe they could go back to being friends with messed up sexual tension.

He triumphantly held up a DVD case in one hand, the other holding his nightcap (the first of many). He headed down the hallway. If he was gone for too long Eric would just go to bed and Chuck wanted them to have fun for once.

"You hid it from me?" Serena's voice travelled down the hall.

Grinning, Chuck ducked beside the door to his father's office. This really was becoming a favourite place. He learned such interesting things, and now he was going to have the joy of watching his father endure one of Serena's adorable, but incredibly loud tantrums.

The door was half-open, but from his viewpoint he could only see Serena. She was still wearing her scarlet gown. Her hip was popped up on the desk, a glass of champagne by her side. He took a sip of scotch, watching as Serena got in full self-righteous mode: arms crossed, chin raised, navy eyes flashing.

His father's voice wasn't nearly as loud or gruff as he'd imagined. "You went through my safe?"

"Well you shouldn't have given me the code if you didn't want me to use it. And that's not the point!"

_He gave her the code?!_

"That was for emergencies," Bart informed her curtly.

"What kind of emergency? Freak whirlwind and we need gold bars for paper weights?" She demanded. "You hid my father's letter from me!"

"There was nothing in it you needed to read," Bart replied, as if talking about the_ Observer_.

_Damn straight_.

"That was my decision! Mine!" Serena took a deep breath, lips twisting into a small smirk. She took a sip from her flute. "You have _excellent _taste in champagne. Heidsieck certainly knew what they were doing, though they really should have gotten the van der Woodsen's for shipping."

_Oh shit._

Bart was silent for a moment. "Is that my...Did you open _the 1907 Heidsieck_?"

Chuck prepared to intervene in case his father attempted to go after the droplets of the quarter of a million dollar drink she'd already swallowed.

Serena lowered her eyelashes deviously. "I did. And it's lovely, thank you."

Bart's words were slow and careful. "You shouldn't have done that." His father appeared in his line of sight, standing directly in front of Serena.

"Oh no? Prove it." In a quick movement Serena knocked her glass over, its contents quickly soaking the papers on Bart's desk.

Bart took a step closer, pinning her between his body and the desk. "I'm not sorry. I was _protecting_ you." One hand cupped Serena's neck, his thumb brushing along her jaw line.

Serena pushed Bart's jacket off his shoulders. "Well, I'm not sorry either."

Chuck's nostrils flared. He was clinging too tightly to his scotch and couldn't seem to stop.

Bart's fingers slipped underneath the straps of Serena's dress, with a single move the bright material pooled at her waist. She stood and the dress disappeared all together. Serena was left standing in strapless black bra, and matching panties. Her hands disappeared under Bart's shirt, smoothing their way up his sides till they could pull his shirt over his head.

She pushed herself back onto the desk, sweeping soaked files to the floor.

Her hands disappeared from sight, but Chuck imagined that she was unbuckling his father's pants with practiced ease.

Chuck was more than glad that most of his father's body was blocked by Serena's.

"You _really _shouldn't have touched my champagne," Bart reiterated sternly, leaning forward to capture the lobe of her ear in his mouth. Serena let out a small sigh.

"That's what I shouldn't be touching?" She laughed.

_He was Chuck Bass_ _and he would watch unflinching._

Her head tilted back, and Chuck could see his father's head bent over her breasts. Golden waves brushed varnished oak. Her hands slid backwards till elegant fingers could clutch the edge of the desk.

_It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd watched his father with one of his whores. _

Bart slipped her underwear down long, tanned legs. She watched him with languid sapphire eyes, her smile a mix of mischief and cynicism. Bart entered her hard and fast, in a movement so sure Chuck knew this couldn't be their first time, or their second, or their third...

_And she was his father's whore, because if she was more, if she was his S... _

Serena let out gasp of pain, which Bart smothered with his lips. Bart's pace remained harsh and punishing, and soon pain sounds turned into pleasure ones.

His eyes fixed on the way her back arched, the way her arms strained. He blocked out his father's deep breaths, the name on her lips.

_Well, that would be fucking sick._

Chuck closed his eyes, unable to watch how this concluded, though he could guess the ending. He listened to her moans, and husky pleas. He didn't open his eyes when his glass shattered in his hand. He closed them tighter when he felt the shooting pain of glass entering his palm.

_And_ _oh_ _God, why could he still see peach nails clawing into oak?_

He fled down the hall, echoes at his heels the entire way. He made sure to grab the open bottle of champagne on his way out.

**E/N: Bleach won't help. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The reviews totally made me laugh out loud. It's a little out there, I know, but I like to think it's leading somewhere. And just to ease your fears, my endgame pairing probably won't leave you in tears. **

Serena frantically tapped the button in the elevator. Dan had always smiled quizzically at the habit while trying to explain that elevators only had one speed, but she was nothing if not persistent.

She bounded into the dining room, quickly spotting her mother's tightly bound gold bun.

"Mom!" she called, carelessly throwing her clutch towards a nearby side table. Lily stood at her voice, preparing for Serena's excessive attention.

Serena threw her arms around her mother's neck, sinking into the comfort of cashmere and Chanel no. 5.

"You're late," Lilly chastised affectionately.

"I _know._ This whole work thing totally gets in the way of my social life." She finally let her eyes travel around the table. She wondered if pinching herself would be impolite.

"Hi Serena," Rufus said in his easy friendly manner.

Serena quickly constructed her socialite mask of calm and polite. "Hey guys."

Apparently the whole Humphrey clan was hungry. Jenny gave a small wave. Dan nodded at her awkwardly, his smile filled with self-derision. She was supposed to be angry at him, but couldn't stop a small smile at his charming nervousness.

Serena took the last seat left, which was between Chuck and Dan.

"Let's eat," her mother said with a smile that showed no signs of faltering. Immediately the serving staff took their cue.

Eric focused on his food, as if not sure where to look. Unbothered by the undercurrents, Jenny chatted happily to Lily. Dan and Rufus managed to pull the stoic Bart into guy talk. Chuck didn't bother to hide his disgusted fascination at the entire scenario. And Serena knew things were bad, because Dan didn't do guy talk and Bart didn't do Humphrey talk.

She leaned in closely to Chuck. "_What is going on_?" she demanded. Her current version of stability was reliant on the fact that she never have to see Dan, that Blair censor her minions so his name and his gorgeous Hollywood girlfriend's name was never heard, so that she never had to think of him or anything else that she use to want.

Chuck gave her a look so dark, she actually moved back. The look disappeared so fast she wasn't certain she hadn't imagined it. "Brooklyn Senior found Lily's sculptor and apparently security's just letting anyone in," he mocked dully.

Serena's face scrunched up, trying to imagine how this bizarreness could have happened. "Isn't it kind of inappropriate to invite my ex-boyfriend and her ex-whatever to a family dinner?"

"_Inappropriate_?" Chuck laughed humourlessly. "Yes I suppose it is, though it's only fair Lily's mistress gets to eat as well."

"I guess so," Serena said confusedly. She didn't want Rufus to starve or anything. But most of her attention was focused on the boy on her other side. He was making witty remarks, trying to take the attention away from how awkward this all was.

Their last break-up had been awful. Beyond awful. It was all _I love you and that's still not enough to make me put up with your huge ball of crazy_. He hadn't actually called her crazy, but she'd gotten use to translating the undertones of "flighty".

Bart excused himself before the final course, apparently having work to get back to. Serena felt bad for him. For an hour a day they sat down and ate and felt almost like something normal. And now even their pretend family time was ruined by the Humphreys.

At least Bart had an excuse to flee.

Dan leaned in, clearing his voice. "Sooo...How do I make this less awful? I get the feeling no amount of crème brûléeis going to take away that taste of braces-with-voice-breaking-zit-popping awkwardness."

"Um, less awful would be this dinner ending in a murder-suicide," she giggled.

"Damn, well I recommended Kool-Aid, but my father was kind of insistent about the whole wine thing."

"Social conventions," she sighed in faux annoyance. He grinned at her and she felt herself melt into his doe eyes. It almost felt normal, almost felt like he hadn't left her alone in her screwed up life.

But he had and he'd been right to. She was a mess and couldn't fix herself let alone a relationship. She went back to her food, noting that he was right about that too.

Crème brûlée didn't help.

She excused herself the minute it wouldn't be impolite, knowing her mother could entertain dinner guests for hours. Chuck smiled knowingly at her departure and Eric shot her a dirty look. She covertly poked her tongue out at them.

She found Bart poring over papers in his office. Unconcerned about disturbing him, she threw herself into the chair across from his desk.

Bart didn't raise his eyes from his files. Only one person had so little concern about giving him his private space.

"I can't believe you escaped and left your only son out there."

Bart gave her a miniscule smile. "I can't believe I left our _guests_ alone with my son."

She laughed brightly. Bart making jokes for her was always a little thrilling.

_Thrilling_. It described a lot more. She was well aware of how wrong this thing between them was. Even thinking about it felt wrong.

Bart had gotten too close. This had been done before. The stepfather's role was meant to be background noise, a bit player at best. But Bart had wanted to get involved...So she'd acted out. It was meant to make him uncomfortable. Idle comments to make him think all sorts of things he hadn't wanted to, wasn't supposed to. It wasn't the first time. Poor Klaus couldn't even be in the same room as her without blushing. And Klaus had left. Left her and her brother and taken her mother. And when her mother had left Klaus, she and Eric wouldn't have even noticed except that for a brief time between partners their mother had forced them to eat breakfast.

For some reason making Bart uncomfortable hadn't been enough this time. Dan had dumped her for the third time, her friends were just starting college and she was... a disaster. And Bart had been there, all ridiculously straight posture and business-attired togetherness.

He was her antithesis.

And somehow, making _Bart Bass_ tremble under her touch, fall apart at her finger tips...it was oddly satisfying.

Bart watched her with those ice-blue eyes. "It was rather ill-advised of your mother to invite them here."

"Yeah," she said, forcing herself to swallow.

His perfect features were as unreadable as ever. "I'm sorry you had to be around that Humphrey boy." It was probably meant to sound sympathetic, but he sounded the same as he always did.

"Me too," she said quietly, trying to convey more with her eyes. She was sorry she'd had to see the boy, who'd broken her heart again and again, sorry he'd had to see Rufus salivate over his wife, so sorry that her mother could never even _see_.

He stood up from his desk, coming around to her side. He brushed her hair back with a cool hand, before placing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. "Want me to order you up some strawberries and chocolate dip?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. Strawberries always made her feel better and he _knew_ that. "I think you know the answer to that," she replied, pleased that he cared enough to try and be just a little soft.

But even she wasn't screwed up enough to think being a poor stand-in for her mother was a safe way to feel better about herself.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Chuck sat back down, shoving his cell phone in his pocket. He'd chosen the seat next to Brooklyn Junior. Humphrey turned wide brown eyes in his direction.

"So how's CUNY?" he asked, fixing a look of bland politeness on his face.

Dan pressed his lips together, eyeing him warily. "I wouldn't know, on account of the fact that I go to NYU."

Chuck smiled apologetically, letting his eyes rake dismissively over the other boy. "It really is a shame what's happened to our private institutions."

Lily stood offering to show the Humphreys her newest painting, some awful suprematist composition for the twenty-first century (like one hadn't been bad enough). Lilly, Rufus, and Jenny left. Chuck motioned with his eyes for Eric to follow. The youngest van der Woodsen shot him a questioning look, but disappeared down the hall with the others.

Dan moved to stand. "Well I'd like to say it's been a pleasure, but—"

"Sit down," Chuck hissed. Dan frowned, his lips opening to protest.

Chuck shoved Dan's chair forward as hard as he could from his position. The impact forced Dan's legs to buckle and he fell back on his seat.

"_What the hell, man_?"

Chuck leaned towards him, knowing his usual smirk was back in place and just a little bit of evil peeked through his gaze. He had never hated Brooklyn. You don't hate those lower than you. But somehow—and he'd stretched his imagination trying to understand the logistics—Brooklyn had moved above his station—he'd dated Serena. And for all of her many flaws Serena was an Upper East Side native, she had ruled the ruling class.

And she had been one of his closest friends—still was whenever it counted.

Then Brooklyn had moved against Blair, _his girlfriend_, Blair Waldorf. It was ridiculous. And, as if that wasn't enough to seal his fate, Dan had dumped Serena. Blair had given him every excruciating detail of how Dan had suddenly decided he was too important, too mature to deal with Serena's problems. So he'd broken up with her, the woman he hadn't even deserved to _look_ at.

Then Serena had drank and spiralled, and somehow ended up screwing his father on his work desk.

And it all came back to Dan Humphrey.

"I'm only going to give you one warning. And you're lucky I'm bothering," he spat, voice laced with violence.

"Rest assured, I'm grateful."

How he despised this poor, _poor_ excuse for a man—his goofy good guy exterior, thinly veiling his completely undeserved sense of supremacy.

Chuck decided to continue as if Humphrey hadn't spoken, "You don't come back here. If your father needs to make a booty call, you stay home. I don't care if you have to take the trash out for a week, or whatever your kind does for punishment. You come back here, if I even see you on the UES—you'll be finishing of your degree at community college and Little J will be walking through metal detectors to get to class."

"I haven't done anything," Dan argued reasonably.

"You existed. In the past, I let that slide because Serena was a powerful ally."

"She was my _girlfriend."_

Chuck wasn't sure why he had to explain this further. _Because I said so_ sat on the edge of his tongue, but he didn't want to sound childish. "_Was_," he sighed. "But now you're nothing to no one who matters. And really I'm being kind; I could have just let Blair at you."

It was true. After four hours spent wiping Serena's tears and prying cocktails from her grasp, Blair had been prepared for war. When Humphrey had challenged her and messed around with Georgina, Blair had wanted his head on a fucking pike. And if Brooklyn didn't watch himself, she might just get her wish.

"Get out. I'll make your excuses to your father."

Chuck pulled out his cell phone, not waiting to see if Dan complied. He scrolled through his contact list for Blair, smiling when he heard the door slam.

**Meet at 1812 in 20**

**-C**

Blair wasn't currently talking to him, so he needed a little bait. He attached the photo he'd taken only ten minutes ago. In showed Serena in profile, Bart was pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, one hand stroking her hair.

Blair would come.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. And I'm more than happy to take creeped out criticism lol. **

Chuck lounged in 1812, completely prepared for Blair's tardiness. It's a rule they both knew: to make someone wait shows _power_.

And lately they'd been scrounging for the smallest crumbs, anything for dominance. He would let this one slide. He had more pressing concerns and Blair would be more cheerful (malleable), if she got her fix.

She arrived in her Lanvin pumps and YSL scent forty minutes after he'd sent the text. A perfect smile of cordiality was carved into her crimson lips.

She stood on the opposite side of the coffee table, clearly unwilling to sit. "Chuck, I thought you must finally have had your breakdown. Calling, expecting _me_ to come to _you _; your father really is working you too hard." Her tone was as sweet as her expression. "I expected to find you naked, surrounded with Kleenex and bottles of your own urine."

He smiled suggestively. "Well, one half of that can be arranged." His smile disappeared; face quickly falling into hard lines. "I didn't call you for your..._charm_, Waldorf." He took out his phone, tossing it across the coffee table, its new background picture malevolent and unholy.

Blair picked up the cell, studying the picture with a blank and unreadable expression. "When was this taken? Is this the only one? Did you make copies?"

"It's a little too tame for Penthouse," he replied disgustedly. "Though perhaps if I waited around for a bit..."

Her fingers darted across the keys and he guessed what she was doing. She tossed the phone back to him easily, its background screen empty once again. She came around the table, so she could stand over him. A small thrill travelled through his body at her nearness.

She gave him her iciest Queen B smile, her gaze venomous. Each word was practically spat at him. "That photo was _nothing_. Whatever you think you saw—_you_ _didn't_. Whatever sick ideas are floating through your head are nothing but the deranged fantasies of a neglected closet case, shocked at his first taste of sibling rivalry."

_Did she just imply he was gay?_

He watched her carefully. _She knew! _There was no way she would be this worried if there was a chance it wasn't real. "Sibling rivalry? Really, Blair, that's the best you can do?" he drawled mockingly.

Blair was making threats on his life and reputation (_ha!_), but breathy gasps floated across his mind tauntingly: _more, Bart. Oh god... _

"I've seen what form daddy's attention takes; I think I'll pass." He met Blair's gaze evenly and her warnings died on her tongue. He'd _seen _things, realised that there are things out in the big bad world that even his seemingly limitless depravity couldn't stomach.

And those things shared his roof.

Blair considered him carefully, reassessing his role. Chuck didn't take offence. _SerenaChuckBlairNate—_it wasn't all illicit sex and infighting. It was responsibility and duty, even if none of them would ever acknowledge that.

Serena and Nathaniel, for all their expertise in self-involvement, rarely knew how to fight for themselves, barely knew they _had_ to fight. And he and Blair, well, that's all they knew to do. And they were good at it.

So good that they could do it for their friends as well.

Blair examined the lounge suspiciously before sitting down beside him tentatively.

"This has to end." Chuck said it, but it didn't really matter, because they were both thinking it.

"But how?" Blair mused.

Chuck realised from her tone that it was question she'd asked herself before. "S?" Blair was the expert on Serena. If there was a way to end this through Serena, Blair would find it.

She gave a slight shake of her head. "She's being..." _Serena_. They shared a look of complete understanding. For someone with such a short attention span, the blonde could be steadfast.

"Bart?" she asked.

Chuck scoffed. "If he even suspected that I knew, I'd be signed up for the army before sundown." His paternal grandfather had been an army man. From the little he remembered the man was a complete bastard. His father had alternately despised and revered the man. Growing up, military school had always been a looming punishment and Bart was not above enlisting his only son for a little old school discipline.

"Then we need to distract them," Blair suggested. "It's not as if their flings last long anyway,"

Chuck raised his brow doubtfully. "What about Humphrey?"

"A fluke. _Insanity_. What are the chances of catching mono twice?" she exclaimed dismissively.

He could buy that comparison. "Once Serena has her victim in mind..."

"We just need to cater to her tastes," Blair commanded. Her face brightened and she gazed at him sidelong. "Carter would be perfect," she murmured casually.

"No!" He couldn't help the exclamation. Watching the two of them last time...He scowled bitterly. It was _wrong_. The way she'd press lipstick smiles into Carter's completely undeserving neck, whisper things that made the jerk let out sounds of pure masculine joy: _that_ was insanity. "No," he ground out unequivocally.

He wouldn't save S from the sharks and hand her over to the dogs—_scruffy _dogs at that.

He forced a neutral expression. "What about Nathaniel?" he asked experimentally, trying to prepare himself for the response.

Blair's face shuttered off. "Nathaniel wouldn't be interested," she pronounced.

Chuck laughed bitterly, as much at himself as her. _Not interested?_ Nathaniel was male and Serena was Serena, what else was there? "Did you unman him when you reattached the armour?"

Her body stiffened. "You wouldn't understand."

Oh, he understood. Nathaniel was...He was _awesome_. Nathaniel was his brother and was good in every way that Chuck would never be. Chuck wanted to leave it alone, but it was like a sore tooth he couldn't stop poking. "So it's him again?" he asked quietly, his body as stiff as hers.

Blair's eyes met his and they were soft, and he hated her just a little for _knowing_. Knowing him, knowing the way his heart beat painfully, the way his mind whirred ruthless and resentful. "It was always him," she admitted.

_Lie!_ Because there had been _them_ and he knew that Nathaniel wasn't the one she had wanted then. He swallowed painfully, trying to build himself around this new world of _BlairandNathaniel_.

But he was _Chuck Bass_. He wouldn't pine. He'd live and he'd prosper and somehow he'd be a friend to the woman he couldn't have and the guy he loved (their bromance was so masculine _love_ was a completely acceptable descriptor).

He smirked playfully. "Does Nathaniel know this?"

She glared, but it was grateful. "Not yet."

He chuckled and it was almost as mean spirited as he'd intended. "We're not going to agree about suitable distractions for Serena." And why did she need a guy anyway? Serena was better by herself. She needed to be _free_.

Blair nodded. "Then Bart."

He arched a brow in surprise. "You have someone in mind?"

She rolled her eyes. "_His wife_."

"Ah." The whole plan unfolded before him, his mind quickly grasping how the dominoes would fall. "We need to get rid of the rest of the Humphreys."

"The _rest_?"

"I gave Humphrey Junior his warning."

Blair smiled satisfied.

"My father would have a file on Rufus. He looks as disgustingly vanilla as his son, but I bet there's something in his D-lister past that we could use."

Chuck had come to dislike Rufus nearly as much as he disliked his offspring, and not because the man was continuously sniffing around his stepmother. He hated his understanding smiles and fatherly concern for his children. Their family dinners were probably unscripted and filled with preachy salt-of-the-earth values.

"Then why wouldn't Bart have used it before?" Blair demanded.

He snickered. "Five feet ten inches, all leg and golden hair, sound familiar?" Chuck continued slightly more serious, "the file would be in his safe. I don't have the code but Serena does." He answered her questioning look: "a courting gift from father dearest."

They both repressed a small shudder.

"I candeal with that." And she would, even if she had to pry that safe open with her French tips. She let her gaze slide away from Chuck's, because if French tips couldn't handle metal, well, she'd cut off every one of basstard senior's fingers.

_Then there'd be no more touching what he wasn't supposed to._

She'd made a promise to herself; her throat sore, her nose burning, when long graceful arms had been the only thing holding her to this world and navy eyes had sobbed for her when she had no more tears left to give.

_She_ was the only one allowed to break Serena, because she was the only one who knew how to put her back together. 

**XOXOXOXOXO**

Serena lay across her bed, head propped up in one hand, the other smothering strawberries in chocolate. She was wearing silky shorts that rode low on her hips and a white camisole that showed inches of bare skin across her hips.

"My, my, I think I might just cancel my Playboy subscription," Chuck drawled, leaning against her doorway.

"I wouldn't, those seem to be the only girls willing to be around you for more than an hour," Serena shot back.

"Oh, an hour's plenty."

She smirked, cocking her head to the side. "Well, it certainly should be for the price you pay."

Blair appeared in the hall behind Chuck. "Children," Blair chastised. She pushed past Chuck, using, Serena thought, way more shoulder than necessary.

The brunette perched cautiously on the edge of the bed.

"Blair!" Serena cried, beaming. She moved quickly to her knees, throwing her arms gracelessly around Blair's neck. She didn't think Blair would be talking to her, after she wouldn't go home with her last night.

Blair let out an exaggerated sigh, a small smile on her lips as she wrapped an arm around Serena's waist.

"I thought you were mad at me," Serena mumbled into Blair's hair.

Blair's reply was little more that a whisper, "I was mad _for_ you, S."

"I've seen this part in Playboy, as well." Chuck languidly reclined on the other side of the bed. "A little too much plot, but I like where it's heading."

Serena pulled away from Blair laughing. She reached out to smack Chuck's chest. "Pervert. Who invited you in?"

Chuck pouted, sloe eyes lecherous. "_Now_ you get discriminating about who's in your bed?"

She smacked him harder. He smiled impishly, rubbing his chest.

Serena watched as he and Blair shared one of _their_ looks—filled with hidden meanings and perfect understanding.

"S, I think one of mother's investors is stealing from her." Blair said, incensed.

Serena's gaze flashed to her friend. "Oh my god, do you think Eleanor will kill them?" It was meant lightly, but Serena did feel bad for whoever it was—their life was over.

"We have no proof." Blair said shaking her head.

"Is there anything I can do?" Serena asked uncertainly.

Blair's burning gaze met hers. "Maybe. I think Bart might have a file on my mother's business."

"Oh." Serena glanced between Blair and Chuck, not really sure of where she fit in.

Chuck picked up on the problem. "The file would be in my father's safe."

"Oh!"

Blair nodded. "Can you help me?"

Serena replied without thought. "I can get the file."

"No! Bart couldn't know it was missing. And I don't want you to get involved."

Serena studied her friend worriedly. "_Okay_." Bart would be totally pissed if he ever found out, but Blair just looked so upset. "Maybe I could give you the code?" she offered, trying to placate her friend.

Blair smiled triumphantly. "I can't stay now; Nathaniel and I have plans." She kissed Serena's cheek lightly, murmuring words into her ear. "Text it to me."

"Okay," she agreed.

Blair left quickly, giving her a last wave and shooting a loaded glace at Chuck.

Serena was still looking at the empty doorway. "That was weird."

Chuck made a small sound that might have been agreement. "She's in love. No time for the peasants when you're playing the princess."

Serena sprawled out beside him, propping her head up again. She opened the small carton of strawberries and dip. "So her and Nate?"

"Apparently."

"I figured," she replied mutedly.

More than anything she wanted a drink. She didn't want to think about Blair and Nate, or the way she'd stupidly thought that Nate had liked her. She didn't want to think at all.

But she wasn't that girl anymore. New Serena didn't do that stuff. Didn't drown out her thoughts. Didn't move and _do_ just to feel and never think.

A tiny bit of self-reflection wouldn't bring the world down around her ears.

It just felt that way sometimes.

She popped another berry into her mouth, noticing Chuck's intent gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked sympathetically, knowing that Blair had meant a lot to him, even if he hid it well.

"Yes," _of course_. "Are you?" He got it, the whole wanting what you have no right to want.

"Yeah." If he could lie, then so could she.

They smiled at each other. Maybe life was like that: just some big unfunny joke.

"Strawberry?" She offered him the one she's already dipped.

He studied it doubtfully. "Where are they from?"

"Your father got them. Only the best."

She was surprised when he looked more repulsed. "Are you fighting with him again?" Bart hadn't mentioned anything, not that she'd expect him to.

"Something like that," he admitted dryly.

She held the berry closer to his lips. "And you're going to take it out on a poor, innocent strawberry?"

He gave her a dubious look. She smiled, knowing her face was lit with impulsive mischief.

"I think—"

She pressed the strawberry between his open lips with a giggle.

But she really should have remembered who she was playing with.

Instantly, his tongue was wrapped around her fingers. Before she could jerk away, his hand was locked around hers, forcing her fingers to slide temptingly slow from his lips.

"_Chuck_."

His slightly rough fingers were still wrapped around hers as he swallowed the treat. "_Serena_," he mocked.

She pushed herself up, attempting to distance herself. Chuck tugged at her hand and she overbalanced almost falling on his chest, but she managed to catch herself with her one free hand.

Her face hovered over his, eyes wide and startled. A slow grin emerged on Chuck's face and she knew what he was going to try.

He darted forward, but she turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek. He let out a breathy chuckle against her skin.

If it was a game she'd have won. But his lips never left her skin. He trailed kisses across her jaw line, his warm tongue slipping out to dip below her ear.

The arm holding her weight started to tremble and she wasn't so much turning her face away from him as pressing it closer to his. "_Don't do this_."

His voice was a content purr in her ear. "Why?" He cupped her hip, fingers moulding into her bare skin.

She turned a confused face to his, and his lips met hers—no near misses this time. She let out a low sound into his mouth and it didn't sound like a complaint. His lips were soft and his skin was warm, and if Chuck was never the safe choice, there was always something comforting about his touch.

It was wrong: the way his mouth tasted so familiar, the way his breath felt against her mouth. _So wrong_. For _so_ many reasons. But she couldn't bring herself to pull away, couldn't quite break away from the hand that had slipped under her shirt to the small of her back.

Her arm slipped and she dropped onto his chest. They both let out a slow breath. She might have tried to move, but his arm was still wrapped her back, and the other still clenched around her fingers. Instead, she relaxed against him, mind whirring too fast for thoughts.

"I'm such as idiot," Chuck muttered.

"I know," she agreed.

**E/N: Was the chapter too long? Plot too stupid? Suggestions always appreciated : ]**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings: TWT, as cracky as ever, and implied S/Ba (nothing gag worthy).**

The duck consommé was not nearly as bad as Celia "CeCe is acceptable" Rhode's expression implied.

CeCe had spent the amuse bouche, prelude, and starter charming Bart, criticising Lily, being underwhelmed by Eric, suspicious of her new _grandson_, and shooting sidelong glances at every glass of Freycinet Chardonnay Serena consumed.

Her arrival had brought out super-hostess Lily, a woman who served six-course meals, adored her husband, and mothered her children.

Chuck had been her grandson for under forty-eight hours and despite the crisp skirt suit and pearls, was already feeling outclassed by the woman.

He'd been almost hesitant to follow through with the plan. It had worked out so well: Blair had found the files; the past had been as dirty as they'd suspected; and even more useful than they could have hoped for.

But an illegitimate child? It was like going for a game of paintball and finding out you were using real bullets: it's still fun, but losing becomes a whole lot more risky.

He'd almost waivered, remembering that this was his almost-family that he was scamming. And as messed up as things were, _losing_ just wasn't an option.

But Blair had been decisive, suggesting that they take it to Rufus, leave him running from the dark corners of the UES as fast as his Sear's loafers could take him.

_Too risky_.

The Brooklyn _never-quite-was_ would probably want to find the kid, and that would lead to family thoughts and that wasn't a place Chuck wanted a Humphrey mind to ever go, _especially_ not in relation to a van der Woodsen.

Lily had been out of the question. He couldn't alienate her from himself, the son of the man they wanted her to fall deeply in love with, or at least pretend to feel affection for. Besides, Lily was a UES native—being blackmailed by teenagers was hardly beyond her scope.

So CeCe it was. The original schemer would be brought into the fray to finish off her own dirty work of burying Lily's booties-wearing disgrace.

Chuck eyed the woman with the same curiosity he'd give a venomous creature. She was everything the UES stood for: layers of illusion with hidden depths of deceit.

It had been rather easy to get her to come. She was all too willing to meddle in her daughter's affairs, and if Chuck hadn't been present when Lily had received her _scoldin_g, he suspected it had been more than apt. With the threat of scandal overhead, Lily had little choice but to run back to the safety of her billionaire husband.

And Bart had little choice but to remember who his wife was. And in the process forget Serena.

No one was particularly happy with the new status quo.

Chuck clung to his cutlery a little tighter every time Serena let out one of those too-bright laughs.

And he didn't feel bad.

Because that was Serena getting _fixed_. It just looked a whole lot similar to Serena breaking.

And this must be what success felt like.

After dinner Eric disappeared into his room and Lily and Bart took the theatre tickets CeCe had bought.

CeCe and Serena moved to the sitting room. Neither spared a glance for Chuck.

That night last week put something uncomfortable between Serena and him.

She had just looked so delicious in her white singlet, on her cotton sheets. And Blair had been there, as perfect as Serena was imperfect. And he'd _wanted_.

He still wasn't sure what.

He was never one for resisting temptation, but he'd expected New Serena to. He should have realised that the _New_ was starting to look a lot more like the old, just a whole less honest about it. He shouldn't be surprised when women get foggy on the subject of age.

He went to his own suite where something pretty and soft was already waiting on his bed. He took off his shoes and bowtie and was naked before he crawled into bed.

"I've been—"

"Don't talk," he hushed.

He'd asked for red hair and green eyes, but found that he couldn't care less. Because when his eyes shut his mind strayed to chocolate curls and golden tangles anyway.

He'd kissed a lot of girls this week. Not that it usually stopped there (some of it paid for, some not).

Because a kiss didn't mean anything. Not to him. Not ever.

But maybe if he tried hard enough with the woman arching into his hands, he could make them (and one in particular) mean even less.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

It had been over a fortnight since CeCe had left, taking with her the last of Serena's laughter.

Serena pushed off the desk again and again, forcing the chair to twirl endlessly.

She didn't know what had happened. She wasn't sure when it had happened. But she knew things had changed.

Eric didn't come for lunch with her anymore. When he did emerge from his bedroom his smiles were wan, and he rarely met her eyes.

Her mother was around more, but her attention seemed more divided than ever.

Chuck was playing games of hot and cold, she didn't know the rules and she wasn't sure she wanted to play. She was caught somewhere between impressed and revolted by his recent show of debauchery. The flashy clubs and flashier women he was constantly consuming were like a merry-go-round: annoying, attractive, and oddly hypnotizing. And who's ever content to just watch? Even when you've sworn you're too old to ride...

Serena closed her eyes, making her spinning world seem even less stable.

Rides were a bad idea. Chuck had been her friend, and then he'd been something close to an antagonist. And now he was her stepbrother, and the son of the man she was currently...There weren't words for what her and Bart were. Well, there was, but none of them were pleasant.

"Serena." Bart's voice made her pull her legs up to her chest, letting the chair complete its last few spins.

She ended up facing a blank wall. "Hey," she greeted, tilting her head back when she still felt like she was falling.

Bart gently moved the chair gently till it was facing his desk again. If he was surprised to find her in his work office in the middle of the day, his face didn't show it. He leaned against the edge of his desk, stretching his legs out in what passed as a relaxed pose.

"Sonny didn't say you were in here." The _why _was merely implied. Bart didn't staff incompetence and his fresh out of grad school assistant was no exception.

"I asked him not to," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes for a reminder that the pretty boy behind the desk outside hadn't stood a chance.

"Run out of shoes to gush over at Elle?"

"Never!" she cried in a scandalized tone.

She fingered the photo frame on his desk. It was one taken at Christmas by a kitchen-hand. She was in the iconic position under the tree, eyes fixed on the open box before her. Chuck stood behind her, smirk in place and eggnog in hand. Lily was fiddling with Eric's collar while Bart watched it all, his expression only slightly less stoic than usual.

It had been the day after they'd had sex for the first time.

Lily had been a no-show and Serena had been coming down from a week-long post-Dan related bender.

She'd caught Bart staring at the Christmas tree in the dark, sipping a nightcap. He'd started his much practiced get-in-line spiel, but hadn't been able to summon the energy to finish it.

Everything about that night was filtered through the soft glow of exhaustion, alcohol, and fairy lights.

In a fit of vulnerability he'd answered her question about where her mother was honestly. _With the Humphreys_ had still been a nausea-invoking phrase for her.

And when she'd stolen the drink from his hand with a laugh, he hadn't been able to find the fatherly concern to scold her. His lips had almost quirked when she'd reached up and stolen a sprig of mistletoe to flick at him, completely bewildered at the prospect of someone with so little respect for his name, so unintimidated by his ruthlessness.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck, lips meeting his with nothing tender and everything exposed, he'd known that she was acting on contempt. But God had it felt like need, and tasted a lot like desire.

He'd wrapped his hands in her hair, pressing them closer. Because he was bitter that the family he'd envisioned for Christmas was the only thing he couldn't build. And the girl in his arms might have been part of the cause, but she was definitely the most beautiful destruction he could have hoped for.

Serena tried to forget that Chuck and Blair had actually been holed up in Chuck's bedroom. And that at some time Blair had seen things that sent her rushing back to the room to lock the door and ensure that Chuck under no circumstances saw what was happening under the Christmas tree.

Bart reached out to still her nervously restless hand. She was feeling stupid for coming. No, she was feeling stupid for _wanting_ to be here with him.

"I'm getting bored of lunching by myself," she explained, voice laced with self-derision.

Bart seemed to weigh her words, as if hearing more than she said. He nodded thoughtfully. He pressed a button on the desk phone. "Sonny, come and take our lunch orders."

She smiled brightly in relief. She'd half convinced herself that he'd tell her he was busy, send her out of his office like the unwanted stepchild she almost was.

Things had changed. Things that made him still when she reached out to touch him, pull away from their kiss first, hesitate when she pulled her shirt off.

For a time his cool demeanour had seemed to slow her world down, as if having something so secure and rigid to focus on had made it impossible to drift. But now he was pulling away from her in a million tiny ways and she didn't know why. Couldn't guess what she'd done. Unless being herself was once again just not enough to make a guy hold on.

And the ground beneath her feet was feeling shaky again. She was drowning in the need to move, to _do_ and just stop thinking. The let's-be-family speech was coming and she didn't want to be sober when it did.

She told animated anecdotes while they ate their rolls and sipped their coffees. He gave her half-smiles and exasperated looks at the more ridiculous stuff. She felt almost comfortable again.

She stood to leave, knowing she wasn't going to make it back to Elle on time anyway. When she leaned down to kiss his cheek, she pretended not to notice the way his grip tightened almost imperceptibly on his coffee cup.

She didn't make it back to work.

She called in sick from a bar and lounge that made superb highballs.

**~R&R~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: Rated [M] for language and slightly sexy stuff.**

The woman on stage was slipping a Chinese fan down her legs in a move so smooth and practiced he was desperate to know what it would feel like. (Her legs, not the fan.)

For a Wednesday night the crowd in Victrola was decent. Sparse really, but Chuck preferred to think of it as _exclusive_. He'd wound up here, against his better judgement, with Charlie Dern. Nate was busy and it was a night for herbal aided relaxation.

The world was soft, and the music was distant. He almost thought he was imagining things when a familiar blonde blocked his view.

In the dimly lit club, with its lingerie clad women and business attired customers Serena seemed even more ethereal than usual. With her free flowing hair and 60s mini in acid tones, she almost gave off her own light.

"Hey Charlie," she greeted the boy beside him with a nod. She turned to him with a grin. "_Bro_."

He could tell immediately that this wasn't Serena. It was one hundred percent _S_. The brilliant simper, flirty gaze, and slightly glazed eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Lookin' good S," Charlie chimed in with a dumb grin.

Chuck did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes. There were very clear reasons why he never hung out with Nate's buddies. The breastless ones, anyway.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, cringing at his own tactlessness. This was _his_ place. It was his retreat, where he could do anything, _be_ anyone: though he'd never choose to be anyone other than _Chuck Bass_.

Serena put on a sulky expression, eyes sparkling with laughter. "I wanted to have _fun_." She said the word like it was filled with meaning (_wasn't that epic?_ _I can't believe we did that!_). She collapsed elegantly into the lounge, between him and Charlie. "So I came to find _you_." She taped his nose with the end of her finger, in case there was any doubt who she was talking about

Before he could stop himself, his arm had wrapped itself around her shoulders. His arm didn't seem to care that this was the girl who _abandoned him_ after screwing his best friend (simultaneously screwing over _hers_); it didn't even mind that she was fucking his father (maybe just to fuck with her mother).

She curved into his side, every lithe inch and soft curve. It felt as easy and perfect as he remembered.

"You're sure now? I heard Blair was hosting a Ladies of the Mayflower meeting," he teased.

She let out a sigh that almost turned into a giggle. "I doubt Blair would admit me in my current state," she returned honestly.

Serena turned to watch the stage with an expression that reminded Chuck of a child watching cartoons. With a wave of his fingers a hostess rushed to take his order.

Serena golf clapped enthusiastically at the end of the performance. Charlie hesitated momentarily before following her lead like the minion he was. It almost hurt to admit it, but he'd forgotten about the auburn haired temptress the moment Serena walked in. "This isn't a musical; you're not obligated to applaud."

"That would be impolite," she chided haughtily. Her eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side. He knew she was about to ask for something. "I want to dance, Chucky!"

He winced at the use of the name he'd thought had disappeared on a train to Connecticut. "Go ahead." He dipped his head toward the stage with a smirk.

"I'm not a stripper," she huffed.

_Ivory skin under a warm spotlight, delicate hands running over his shoulders_.

_Would golden skin and brazen hands be as enthralling? Or just as devastating?_

"That's not what I remember," Charlie muttered under his breath.

He chuckled at the other boy's comment, annoying the blonde further. Serena flicked the basketball player in the head.

Chuck stood before Serena had turned back. They would have gone anyway. Serena would have turned big blue eyes on him, and her pouty lips would have dipped downwards, and he would have done precisely what she wanted.

At least this way he could pretend, if only to himself, that she couldn't work him over. Like a schoolboy.

(_Like his father_.)

They ended up in the Meatpacking District, at a club with more smoke than trend. Chuck didn't dance so much as offer a willing body for Serena to move around.

It wasn't anywhere he wanted to be. It wasn't anything that he liked. People didn't scurry out of his path, or give him sidelong glances of awe.

He really should have hated it.

But his hands were on her slim hips as they swayed to a pounding beat nobody should be able to keep up with. Her heavy lidded eyes regarded him with something like amusement and a lot like sex.

He couldn't quite decide what was more intoxicating: the drinks, the hash, or _her_.

_Smile, lips, hips, kiss._ He couldn't think straight enough to hate it, couldn't even fake a complaint to keep up appearances.

His lips brushed her throat, tasting moisture and something he would never be able to get enough of. She twirled out of his grasp with a move that would have been to agile for anyone else who had consumed as much alcohol as she had. He trailed her long strides even before she could look over her shoulder with a challenge and a promise.

He was still pretending that he wasn't following her. As if he wouldn't give her everything she asked for and anything she didn't.

He was already texting for his limo with one hand, eyes never leaving her yellow-blonde mane.

She didn't touch him when they emerged into the chilly night, barely even looked at him. He grasped her hand when she leaped onto a bench, tightrope walking along the edge. He followed alongside without thought, knowing better than to point out that she probably shouldn't be doing that drunk and in four inch stilettos.

At three a.m. outside some rundown ex-warehouse he felt the need to shade his eyes. She glowed. She fucking _shimmered_.

He craned his neck so that he could meet her eyes. He didn't know what was in his expression (knew it would probably be embarrassing if he wasn't so far gone), but her bubbly facade seemed to recede, sink somewhere deep, leaving only naked vulnerability and more trust than he deserved.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered. It was quiet and so intense he wondered if it was meant for his ears.

"_Nothing_," he hissed. Anyone with eyes could tell her that.

She shook her head violently and her body waivered, rocking forward precariously. He moved towards her, but she caught herself and went on as if she hadn't noticed.

"I never wanted to be perfect. I didn't want to be one of _them_," she told him, one hand moving emphatically with her words, the other weighed down by his grasp.

He didn't wonder who _them _was, knowing it meant her mother, his father, half of the UES.

She hurried on, "so I did whatever, made messes for other people to clean-up, you know? And I didn't mind that I was a little wrong, because it was what I wanted. I chose my mistakes. _Needed them. But_ now I don't feel messy: I feel _broken_." Her navy eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn't sure what she wanted.

Nate would have known what to say; he'd have been sweet and reassuring. Blair would have been able to make things better. But he just grimaced, trying to sort through the enigma with his sluggish mind, and idiotic tongue.

The limo pulled up beside them and she skipped off the bench, escaping his hands and ducking into the car before the driver could open the door.

During the ride back to The Palace, Serena put herself back together. If he hadn't seen it, he'd never believe for a second that the girl on his lap, stealing his bowtie had had a self-doubt in her life. The distant part of his mind that was still capable of thinking was worried. The Queen S facade was built so fast, so seamlessly, how often did she fall apart and rebuild herself without anyone ever noticing?

She pressed kisses onto his lips, hands roving under his shirt leisurely. He pulled back, putting his hands over hers, stilling them despite his body's protests.

He'd watched it so many times before. The way she'd move and entice while greedy hands did nothing but take and unworthy boys basked in her shimmer.

His voice was just a sigh, but he got the words out. "Nothing's been done, S. No mistakes made. It would be a good time to stop if you don't want anymore... mess." It hurt to offer. He almost wished he could suck the words back before she disappeared, but he couldn't just take, not when she seemed to give up everything without holding back anything for herself.

She smiled lazily, regarding him through lowered lashes. "But I'm so very, _very_ good at making them."

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

They fell through the door to his suite. He couldn't even turn the light on before she was in his arms, ridiculously long legs wrapped around his waist, and uncannily deft hands pulling his vest off.

He fought the need to push her dress up and do her on the kitchen table. (Family resemblances at this point would be unseemly.) With deep breaths he calmed himself enough to lower her onto the bed. She got to her knees, shrugging her dress off without an ounce of hesitation and then removing his clothes with the same sharp movements.

Her arms tugged him down to her mouth. His body _ached_. He felt sick with _wanting_. And she was laughing! Pressing giggles into his chest, with her nails carving marks into his ass and mumbling something about missing "scarf".

His hands travelled down her body, lips sucking gently at the thin material covering her breasts. Serena let out breathy gasps, moulding delicate skin and perfect curves into his body. His world seemed to narrow. _Kiss. Touch. Fuck_.

_Take._

He'd take everything she had to give.

Keeping it would be the hard part.

**E/N:Yes, I know I shouldn't spend an entire chapter on C and S getting it on, but I'm only one person and I really don't have that sort of self-control! And if ff wasn't invented so I could drag out inappropriate comfort between step-siblings, then I have been sorely misled. **

***heavy sigh* Drama chap will be up in the next day or so. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: I'm going to keep this an M. Language and graphic stuff. **

Serena woke up well into the late morning. Though she wouldn't describe herself as _awake_. Conscious would be slightly more apt. She clasped her face in both hands, blonde tangles helped to block out the tiny lines of sunshine that managed to seep through Chuck's heavy curtains. The throbbing didn't stop and neither did the nausea threatening to bubble over.

There was once a time when she could wake up after a hard night and feel fresh and ready for the new one. Unfortunately she was out of practice and gin may have well as been a freight train; the effect was remarkably similar. She threw off the sheets, trying not to think about the sweat and other bodily fluids they'd probably collected during the night.

She quickly scanned the note by the bed before scrunching it up. Chuck had called in sick for her and left a glass of his (_in_)famous hangover cure in the fridge. Her nose crinkled when she reached the end.

_Your loving brother,_

_C_

It was overkill. She was way too sick to deal with the incest connotations. But that was Chuck; he couldn't do the sweet without the sour.

By the time she was presentable enough to head to the family's suite she wasn't certain what made her feel more ill: the alcohol, Chuck's _cure_, or herself.

Her life was a disaster. And it didn't get any easier: always living in the eye of the storm. Or maybe she _was_ the storm.

She opened the door quietly, uncertain whether she could handle polite conversation.

She needn't have bothered. Bart stood next to the kitchen table, flipping through the contents of a large yellow envelope. "May I see you for a moment?" he asked without looking up.

Her shoulders stiffened at his tone. With a stony, impenetrable expression he watched as she closed the distance between them.

"What's up?" she asked cautiously, transferring her heels from last night and the rest of Chuck's hangover cure to the table.

"_What's up?_" he repeated incredulously. He let out a low breath, closing his eyes for a moment to calm himself. "You do realise that I own this building?"

"That does sound familiar," she replied. She didn't like this naughty schoolgirl routine he was forcing her into. Her fingers wanted to fiddle with her clothes (Chuck's shirt and a woman's skinny jeans that she didn't want to know the details of), but she crossed her arms to stop herself.

"So when my stepdaughter comes home inebriated at two a.m., don't you think I'm going to find out?" he demanded, voice held back only with steely control.

Her gaze dropped to the table, and she lost the battle as one hand reached out to fiddle with the scuffed toes of the disregarded stilettos. "I'm sorry. I—"

"_Enough!_"

She jumped at the sound of his rebuke. He hadn't even shouted, but the tone was nothing she'd ever heard from him. Not even when she came in at four a.m. after making out with bartenders just to annoy him.

"Enough," he continued in his usual reined in manner. "Don't you think I'm going to find out when you come in at two a.m., inebriated, and _pawing all over my son_?" Each word was drawn out, flung at her like a barb.

She took a step back unconsciously, stunned. Suddenly the room felt too hot, and too quiet. She blinked rapidly while trying to process his words.

His lips sealed into a hard line, watching her reaction with a considerable amount of scorn. "Will you not be content till you've destroyed every last fragment of your reputation and my name? Are you honestly trying to destroy this family?"

"No! I mean, I don't know. I didn't mean to do anything. I don't even remember being in the hotel last night. I just..." She shook her head, agitated when words seemed to fail her. She remembered Chuck, and touching Chuck, and being in the lobby while touching Chuck, but she hadn't been coherent enough to think about the ramifications of getting felt up by her stepbrother in front of his father's employees.

He passed the contents of the yellow envelope to her. Thoughtlessly she flicked through a couple of the photos from the security tape last night. "Sleeping with my son Serena? Do you have no limits?" The words were quieter, more searching than angry.

She preferred anger.

"What do you think?" she asked contemptuously. She wanted to ball up the photos and throw them at him; she'd do anything to make him just _stop_: stop talking, stop making her feel like this. She felt so guilty she couldn't handle his disdain, couldn't even think about the worry that was lurking somewhere behind his frosty blue eyes.

"I think things are going to change." He took the photos from her hands, even as she clung to them a little too tightly. He shoved them back in their envelope, probably preparing them to go into his safe of secrets and demons. The photos disappeared and so did the last of his emotions. He was _Bart Bass_ again: entrepreneur, billionaire, and nothing close to human. "I think you need to go to college. Brown's second semester doesn't start for another five months, but I'm sure I can get you into some preparatory programs."

"You're sending me away?" She hated how tiny her voice sounded.

"I think the best thing for this family is space. I dismissed Charles because of his behaviour last night."

She couldn't believe he'd do this. It wasn't just about last night, she was sure of it. He wanted her gone from his bed and from his life. And Chuck had gotten in the crossfire: lost his job, and added another nail in the coffin for father-son relations.

He'd been so perfect last night. As she teetered on a dirty bench and looked down at him. His handsome face had watched her with something close to awe. _You shimmer_ he'd whispered, as if he had no idea the words had left his lips.

And she'd tried to tell him, _to warn him_, that she didn't deserve that look, or those words. But he'd just looked petulant, like a child who couldn't accept Santa Clause wasn't real.

"The two of you humiliated yourselves. He can have a choice of the marines or college." He met her bitter gaze unflinching. "I'm doing what I think is best for the two of you."

"What's best for _you_, you mean! And your company and your precious name," she hissed.

"It's your name too," he cut in.

She paused, not following his words. "What?"

"It's your name too now," he repeated. "A while ago your mother adopted Chuck and I adopted you and Eric. The papers were processed and I finally got around to picking up the forms."

"_Why are you doing this?"_ She brought a hand up to her forehead, feeling like she needed something to stabilize her.

**XOXOXOXOXO**

He sat at The Palace bar, not so much drinking his drink as glaring at it. Which was unfair really, because scotch was the only thing he didn't hate at the moment.

He was in a quiet corner table rather than his usual seat at the bar. For once he didn't feel like being seen.

He'd gone to Bass Industries this morning, despite getting two hours of sleep. And his father had called him into his office and fired him. _His own father had fired him_. For being seen drunk last night and coming in late with Serena.

All of Manhattan had seen him drunk before.

Most of Manhattan had seen a hell of a lot more of Serena than that.

The marines or college. That was the choice his father had given him. But he couldn't even bring himself to think about that. Fatigues or a library, it didn't matter. Either one would probably lead to the same ending. The slow painful elimination of all that _Chuck Bass_ had come to stand for.

And all for _her_.

His father hadn't said a thing about it, but he knew. His father would have known exactly what he and Serena had done. Even as intoxicated as he'd been he could still remember the feeling of holding Serena up against the wall, his lips on hers, her thigh moving between his while they waited for the elevator, knowing that a security camera was right behind him, knowing that his father would see them. But with _mine, mine, mine_ running through his head, it had seemed like a good idea.

And that's why the bastard had fired him.

He could have handled getting fired. The limo ride home had almost restored his calm exterior. He'd had the rest of the day planned out. He would head to his suite where Serena would still be asleep and naked underneath his sheets. Even hungover she'd look like a goddess in the midmorning sun. He'd coax her awake with a teasing rose down her skin and her favourite berries. She'd be embarrassed and guilty about last night. But he'd remind her of who he was: how he'd seen _everything_, been there for it all and she'd eventually give him coy looks and sultry giggles. He'd tell her about getting fired and she'd exclaim how much of a prick his father was.

And then he'd graciously accept her sympathy sex.

But that was not how it had gone down.

He'd thought to pick up a change of clothes for her, which he was planning on holding hostage until she'd paid him (he was flexible with payment plans). And then there it'd been.

There _they'd_ been.

Serena wrapped in his father's arms, wearing _his_ shirt, cuddled into his chest like his father was a Humphrey or some shit. And she was _crying_. He couldn't hear anything, but he could see the slight tremble in her shoulders.

She was probably crying about last night. About how much of a slut she was.

And his father had seen him over her golden head. His hand had paused in mid-motion where it was soothing Serena's hair down. Their eyes had clashed, blue against brown, and Bart had seen everything, every ounce of unrefined anger in his son's gaze. But Bart's eyes had drifted to the girl in his arms and just like that the moment was gone.

And his father had the nerve to go on, to do _that_ right in front of him. Bart's hand continued its journey through blonde silk, lips murmuring something Chuck couldn't make out, probably sweet nothings.

He felt the bile rise to his throat and quickly took another swig of his drink.

And to make things even worse then there she was, sitting down in the only other chair at the table, like she had any fucking right to be near him. She was wearing a loose silk singlet under a pair of waist-high shorts, a leopard print scarf wrapped around her neck. He wished he didn't know for sure that she came through on every promise her body made.

He shouldn't have been surprised, it was a bar and she was Serena. Her liver probably couldn't function without an ocean of gin rushing through it.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he eluded her touch. The small smile disappeared from her face, replaced by something cautious. "Hey Chuck."

He returned her greeting with a scowl. Because she was Serena, it didn't faze her; she barely acknowledged his look of disgust.

"I heard about Bass industries." Navy blue eyes shone with sympathy. He remembered the way those eyes looked from inches away: unfocused with pleasure, her warm breath bathing his lips. "I'm sorry."

He let his lips tip into a small smirk. "Sorry for _me_?" He shook his head as if amused. "Why, because I got fired? Because my father fired me for touching you? Or because he was too busy _fucking you_ to be a father to me?"

Her eyes went wide, hands fl uttering nervously for a moment before wrapping around her own body, like maybe they were the only things holding her together. "Chuck, I—" Her voice faltered, and she licked her slightly parted lips.

It was so much worse now, knowing what those lips felt wrapped his cock, her mouth wet, and warm, and so damn wanting.

"You what? Are some sort of Bass whore?" His lips twisted into something ugly. "I'm well aware of that. Father—mine, _yours_, whatever—should really put you on the payroll or something."

He stood walking out of the bar as steadily as he could. He'd nearly made it to the elevator, when he heard her long strides following him. He hated her too long legs now. The way they could wrap around his hips, as he forced himself into tight, dripping, heat.

He pressed the elevator button and she reached out to grab his arm, tugging at it until he turned to face her. "What do you want, Serena?" he asked, cold and tired of her games.

It didn't matter who he was, what he was capable of destroying with his name and his brains. With her it all seemed to go up in smoke, delusions of grandeur, while she just had to _exist_ for lives to crumble at her feet. Compared to her he was an amateur, breaking toys while she broke kingdoms.

Queen S was alive and well, still nothing but unadulterated destruction in motion.

Her eyes pleaded with him. _I feel broken_. "Chuck, I'm sorry," she repeated, this time for a hundred different things. "I don't know what happened, or why. I just—" She held up her hands, palms first in a beseeching gesture. "I do things that I don't mean or understand, and things _just happen_. And people get hurt. And I'm just so sorry."

He stepped into the elevator without looking at her. "You're always sorry S." He hoped that it would be enough, that she'd know better than to continue this.

He let out an exhausted sigh when she followed him and the doors shut behind her. When had Serena ever known better? She reached out to touch his arm, starting to apologise again. His jaw clenched painfully and he grabbed her wrists transferring them both to one hand, as he pushed her with his body until she was pressed up against the elevator wall. He forced her arms above her head, his shoulder aching where her teeth had drawn blood to stifle screams. This morning he'd wanted nothing more than a matching set on his other arm, but now he gripped her chin between his fingers, glad that she wasn't wearing heels and their eyes were on the exact same level.

"Thing don't just happen," he whispered harshly, inches from her face. "Selfish little girls _make them happen_, without a thought in their pretty little heads, not for their mother and not for their brother." _And not for me_.

It wasn't fair, and he didn't care. Her wide blue eyes shined with tears, lips parted as her breath came too fast. "Don't Chuck."

"Why?" he demanded lazily.

"I thought that—" Her head lowered, blonde hair dragging in front of her face.

He smiled, well, bared his teeth in something resembling a smile. His voice came out soft with a charming lilt. "You thought what? That with one lousy fuck I'd play your fool?"

She lost the battle and a few small tears broke her hold. He couldn't look at her like this: all fragile and lost and a lot of it his fault. But he couldn't seem to stop himself from hitting out at her, from making her hurt the way he was hurting. "Did I blink and miss the part where I was supposed to fall in love?" he asked in the same quiet voice.

He captured her lips with bruising force, hard enough that her teeth would leave marks on her own lips. She smelt like tears and his father's cologne. It made him press her wrists harder together, tighten his hold on her face. He wanted something. He wanted her to struggle, to smack him, scream _disgusting bastard_ into his face.

But she didn't.

She just cried harder. He could read the guilt in her face. She wouldn't fight him, because she didn't think she deserved to fight.

The elevator chimed and he dropped her wrists abruptly. He pressed the button for the family's suite on his way out. "Go back to my father." He stepped out into the hallway. He couldn't deal with her when she was like this, when she refused to feel anything, to be anything worthy.

"If he'll still have you."

**E/N: Voila! **_**Drama**_**. Let me know what you think, 'cause reviews are coolness.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. You guys are beyond awesome!**

New Serena was dead.

Had been for awhile.

It didn't matter if the death blow came when Dan left, or on Christmas Eve, or last night in 1812.

She was done impersonating someone good, someone _worthy_. She let the remnants of the girl—the one she'd tried so hard to be—wither and fade. And she didn't mourn the loss.

Serena wasn't sure why she'd come here. She'd fled The Palace without a thought in her head, except for a distant longing to just be gone.

The problem was that she had nowhere to go.

So she sat in Central Park, wearing a dress that would still be inappropriate after sunset, let alone while children were still at school. And it wasn't just short, it was _freezing_.

She rubbed her hands together, breathing on them periodically. It didn't matter that thousands of people walked past here every day, because it would always be Blair's bench, Blair's pond, Blair's ducks.

She couldn't face her best friend.

Not now and maybe not ever.

It didn't matter that Blair had broken up with Chuck; it didn't even matter that she had her sights set on Nathaniel. Her best friend's self-esteem was fragile (not as fragile as Serena thought, but not nearly as strong as Blair believed).

Her and Chuck hadn't exactly been discreet. If Gossip Girl hadn't leaked the story yet, she would soon.

It would eat at Blair to know that her ex had fallen into bed with Serena.

Because Serena took things. Eleanor, Nate, and now Chuck.

Which was odd, considering the way Serena had no one to turn to.

Nate wouldn't understand. As hard as Nate fought his family, ran from everything they stood for, he worshipped them—would do anything for them. Nate was _good_. How could he understand the way Serena had so thoughtlessly risked hurting everyone she loved most?

And she was pretty sure she'd jump in the pond, foregoing oxygen, if she thought Chuck was heading this way.

She'd almost believed they'd find something together again. They'd had so much fun together. It had just come so easy, felt so right. And she'd wanted it so bad. To feel that perfect ease they had always shared.

But now Chuck hated her. She didn't know how he'd found out. Maybe he'd guessed, maybe Blair told him, maybe he just knew—the way that he so often seemed to.

She knew she'd do anything, _anything_ to make sure she never had to see Chuck look at her the way he had today.

She sat on Blair's bench, and no matter how desperately she needed her best friend, she didn't expect to see her. Blair wouldn't just happen upon her and Blair wouldn't gather her into small but capable arms. Her life didn't work like that.

There would be no do-over, no _dues ex machina_.

(An ounce of blow and a boy in a body bag had taught her that.)

Only once had she fallen this deep. So deep that she couldn't see the light, so deep that there was no one left to help her, so deep that she didn't _deserve_ help.

But that time she'd clawed her way out.

She could be at the train station in seven minutes. She could lose her phone on the way. And staring out a window on the way to anywhere else she'd find something worth saving. She'd rebuild herself. A better her this time. One that would be straight and tall and stable.

But seven minutes passed and she still hadn't moved, because the last time she'd made her way out into the light Eric was the one to pay the price.

So she watched the ducks and waited for the friend who wasn't coming.

**XOXOXO**

Bart pulled out the cigars he could never light in Lily's presence. He lit it, inhaling deeply. He couldn't decide whether the way it covered the smell of Serena's perfume was a good thing or not. His office always reminded him more of Serena than his wife. Most of the house did.

Lily would be home tonight, just as she'd been home every night this week. He didn't know what had changed her mind. He didn't believe in coincidence. He didn't believe in luck. A few months ago he'd be suspicious, he'd have called his private investigators, and his mind would be constantly running over the scandalous possibilities. But his marriage had been teetering on the edge for too long.

It was exhausting.

He loved Lily. Loved her in a way he hadn't thought he was capable of since Misty. He'd known that she had secrets; he'd known her penchant for serial divorces; known how deep she buried any feelings and vulnerability. But he'd still believed they could work, believed that he could crack her perfect veneer.

He'd been wrong.

But it didn't matter. He'd made a promise to her. He'd made a promise to himself, for his son as much as himself.

So he'd try. Try and try again till he made them a family.

He watched as Serena walked past his doorway. He was still watching the door when she walked past it again, this time wearing only the merest hint of fuchsia material.

He should have stopped her, but the front door slammed before he could work up the nerve. He hadn't left things on the best of terms. Serena would be in one of her mercilessly reckless moods, full of purring laughter and natural manipulations that should be beyond her years. It always left his head spinning.

The expression in her eyes when he'd told her about the adoption...Bart wasn't a man who felt torn often, but he'd wished, just for a moment, that he had kept quiet on the matter.

"_You're eighteen, so it's more of a symbolic gesture, but I mean it. As I meant the vowels I swore to your mother; I meant the promises I made about this family too." _

"_Really?" she asked scathingly. "That wasn't really the vibe I was getting." _

_He nodded, understanding her words perfectly. "Lily is...Lily: perfectly flawed and almost as flighty as her daughter. I was disillusioned with a wife who was not nearly as charmed by me as I'd come to believe, and a marriage that was falling apart before it had a chance to even start. And then there was you." He reached out to touch her cheek with a reverence that surprised even him. "Beautiful, and wild, and so far from anything I'd ever known. And for a while I fooled myself into believing it was okay. Lily was never here, you seemed to settle down a little, and nobody seemed to be getting hurt."_

_A few tears prickled, but she held her eyes open as wide as she could so not one could fall. His hand rested against her cheek. It made his heart ache when she leaned into it. So giving, so trusting—even after everything he'd done._

_He continued in the same cool but slightly reminiscent tone. "But for whatever reason, your mother came back to me, and I had to distance myself from you. And I could see how wrong I was. About everything. I could see how very close to the edge you were. You were lost and instead of trying to be a father I was just another push towards the edge." He pulled her into his arms. "So I'm going to try again: with Brown and distance." _

_She slowly relaxed against him. It didn't feel platonic and probably never would. "You can just be done with me?" she whispered._

_His lips twitched into a tiny smile, the way they always did when she was around. "Not even close. But I can try and turn us into something else, something that won't end up hurting us all." _

_Her brilliant eyes flashed, chin raised in defiance. "You can't make me go anywhere or do anything," she announced, sounding like the eighteen-year-old she was. _

_He put on his familiar face of harsh disapproval, but didn't move away. Couldn't move, never even wanted to. "Serena." Her name escaped his lips in a sigh and he knew it was a million miles away from fatherly. "That, my dear, is the only thing I'm certain of."_

_The tears began leaking from her eyes. He gathered her lightly trembling body into his arms, running a hand through her hair. He soaked up her scent, the feel of her, realising that this may be his last chance. _

_He looked up in surprise when he heard the front door open. He froze when he realised who it was. Chuck's gaze met his with a venom that a father should never have to see in his son's eyes._

_There was no doubt in his mind that Chuck knew about him and Serena. He felt a grudging pride for his far too crafty son. _

_Serena curled into his chest and he was freed from the intensity of his son's hatred. _

Bart stood from his desk with reluctance. When Serena had left she'd seemed to have calmed down, but obviously something had happened to send her on one of her 'outings'.

Whether by father's intuition or his own shrewd nature, he was certain of who Serena had gone to see earlier.

After knocking forcefully, he pulled out the cardkey to his son's suite. It was something he'd never done before, both out of respect for his son's privacy and a reluctance to find out exactly what went on here.

He paused when he saw the bathroom door was shut. A slither of smoke eased through the crack in the door.

Without further contemplation he threw the door open. Chuck was laid out on the small tiled space where the spa edge and wall met. His legs hung off the edge towards the bathroom door. One arm rested on his stomach, the other splayed down the side of the tub, a joint dangling from his fingers.

Bart waved a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. He grabbed the poorly rolled cigarette from Chuck's grasp, putting it out in the sink.

With lazy movements Chuck sat up. Misty's sloe eyes regarded him with a malicious amusement that his ex-wife would never have been capable of. "You could have just asked. I have enough to go around."

The comment irked him in the exact manner it had been intended. "Enough of this, Charles. I didn't fire you so you'd have more time to break federal laws."

"Of course you didn't," Chuck sniped, standing. "You got rid of me so that you'd have more time to fiddle with your step-daughter."

Bart felt his forehead throb. No one could get a rise out of him as fast as Chuck. But his words hadn't exactly been uncalled for. He knew what he and Serena would look like to an outsider. He wanted to protest, to tell Chuck that he was human and made mistakes, that he'd fired him so that this family would have a chance at survival. But as usual when it came to Chuck, words failed him, as if the gap between the two men was just too wide to breach. And the chasm widened every time he faltered as a father, which only made it harder for him to find the right words the next time.

He didn't believe there were any words that could fix them.

His body tensed in defensive anger. "You watch your mouth. I know you've said something to Serena, and I want you to make your decision by the end of the week. I'll have some college brochures sent up."

He could see the way Chuck bit back a taught reply, dark eyes the only thing communicating his barely controlled temper. He was more certain than ever that he had to get Chuck far away. Always before his son had clung to a cool exterior in front of him, but something had happened.

_Serena_.

He'd watched the security tape over and over again. At first he could barely see past his own jealousy and displeasure, but eventually he'd seen how captivated they both seemed.

It could only end in disaster.

He didn't know how he'd married the only woman with a child as jaded and self-destructive as his own son.

To Chuck, women were games. Entertaining, pleasurable games. He wasn't quite certain why Serena captured men the way she did, but knew it was probably just as unhealthy. He didn't know who would damage who more and he never wanted to find out.

"And stay away from Serena until then," he said like it was an afterthought.

Chuck's words came through clenched teeth. "You really can't make me do anything."

_Too alike by half_.

He didn't know how his relationship with Chuck had come to this. It was a million mistakes and a million missed opportunities.

He really was exhausted.

"You'll do it, Charles. Lap dances don't pay for themselves." He hadn't been able to look at his son when he said the words; that was his only excuse for not seeing the fist that flew at his face.


	10. Chapter 10

Serena went home early. Not her usual version of early, which was anytime before two a.m., but early as in before dinner time.

Her vague plan to drink until she forgot her own name had seemed distant and slightly unproductive from the serene park. So two martinis in (for courage, and because she was in mourning, and _just because_) she decided to head home.

Although things in her head still didn't make sense, she now had an almost foolproof plan: _be better_. She was going to be a better sister, a better daughter, and a better friend.

Blair was her top priority. She was already dreading the brunette's anger, but she knew that if she made it through the storm, somehow she'd work out a way to make Blair forgive her.

She'd also created a mental list of people not to sleep with. It included stepfathers, stepbrothers, friend's fathers, best friend's boyfriends, and married politicians. Technically that last one had never come up, but it was still a pretty solid rule.

The list really would have been useful, oh say three, four years ago.

After a quick knock and before any possible reply, she barged into her brother's room. Eric lay on his bed, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. He was staring so intently at his ceiling that she couldn't resist looking.

His ceiling was a myriad of colours: dark inky swirls, hints of an ocean here and there, bright patches of paint that didn't seem to follow any discernable pattern.

Eric sat up, pulling his knees up so he could wrap his hands around them loosely.

"Oh wow, you do that?" Serena asked, throwing herself onto the bed so she could stare up at it more easily.

The bed bounced a little, dipping under her weight. Eric slid towards her unintentionally, til his hip was pressed into her shoulder. "Uh huh, it was my psychiatrist's idea. Well, the painting. He didn't specify the ceiling bit," he confirmed, studying her calmly.

He looked paler than she remembered.

"_I like_," she declared with an easy grin. She reached up with a long arm to push his hair away from his forehead. "You need a haircut," she informed him absently. She hadn't been the best sister lately, or ever really, but she was determined to try harder—to make it impossible for Eric to sink into his own lonely world.

"I didn't expect you to be home tonight," he told her experimentally.

"You want the house cleared? Hot date or something?" she asked only half joking.

Eric cleared his throat, eyebrows pulling together in mild confusion. "Have you had your phone on you? Been online? Talked to a human recently?"

"Cells flat, don't remember where I put my laptop, and I've only talked to Basses today, so that would be a negative on _human_." She'd finally noticed that her brother was watching her a little too closely. She pulled a face—nose scrunching, eyes looking pointedly to the side. "Gossip Girl?" she asked with a slight pause. "Me...Chuck?"

Eric nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah," he breathed.

"How bad?" she groaned.

"The ones of you making out on the hood of the limo? Those could sell for money. _A lot of it_. And I'm pretty sure your argument this morning just went platinum." He looked almost bewildered. "The UES has gone crazy. I think Gossip Girl actually posted a photo of you with a duck and your empty martini glass."

She didn't really care about that. She was only scared about one girl on the UES seeing those photos.

She wanted to ask if Eric was okay, but she knew how much he hated that. She squinted up at him. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

He was focusing on the ceiling again. "I think you could do worse than Chuck." They both seemed to think on that for a second. He gave her a sidelong glance. "You know...like Bart."

She pulled a pillow over her head. Eric made out a barely discernable "how? "

He shook his head, almost in amusement. "You're not half as inconspicuous as you think you are sis."

She threw the pillow to the floor. "Sorry, E."

Eric didn't have to ask why she was saying sorry to him. He knew that as screwed up as things got, she always covered his ears and eyes, trying to hide their too screwed up world from him. And now she was the one making things more confusing. "It's okay," he forgave easily and without a second thought.

"Well everything is back to normal, okay?" she said firmly. "Me and Chuck are back to our usual angry banter and Bart thinks Brown would be a good idea."

He tried to read the subtext. He was well versed in seeing through her whitewashed version of events. "Are you going to let him send you away?"

She shrugged. "If I go, it will be on my terms, though I haven't exactly worked out how to make that clear to him. And it will just be for college; I won't be banished." She nudged his hip with her shoulder. "Besides, If I left, who would be your role model?" she exclaimed, fluttering her eyelashes prettily.

Eric gave her a small smile, before looking around his room thoughtfully. "_Well_," he said, drawing the word out, "I do have an excellent lamp. It may not have your talent for accessorising, but I think it outperforms you in the whole moral compass department."

She managed to poke her tongue out at him even through giggles.

**XOXOXOXO**

Blair leaned down to press unhurried kisses against Nathaniel's mouth. Impatiently he tried to arch upwards, to deepen the kiss, capture the taste of her and never let her go. Her sharp fingernails traced over his bare chest teasingly, her thighs tightening around his denim clad hips.

_Baby are you down, down, down, down, down? _

They both ignored the short message tone on Blair's phone. Nathaniel's hands slid around her ass and he struggled not to grind against her. His eyes were already glazed as he took in the perfection before him. He couldn't believe that _he_ got to touch it, feel her skin against his.

Her hands cupped his face as she finally kissed him deep and constant. His hands clung to her tightly, as if to stop her from escaping.

_Baby are you down, down, down, down, down?_

Blair sat up quickly, a flash of displeasure crossing her face. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table.

"Ignore it, B" Nathaniel pleaded.

She saw that she had about five Gossip Girl updates. "What could be so important?" she trailed off while reading through her messages. At first it looked like the blogger had gone mad.

Serena. Chuck. Serena. Serena and Chuck—

Blair immediately swung her leg from around Nathaniel's body. Her eyes were still reading through the messages as she stood from the bed, one hand already reaching up to fix her hair.

"Where are you going?" Nathaniel watched her gather her stuff.

"I need to see Serena." Blair was proud that her voice came out flat.

"Something wrong?" Nate asked in concern. She glanced at him in suspiciously, automatically trying to gauge how deep that concern ran. "Need me to come?" he offered, thinking Blair might need help carrying the blonde out of a bar or something.

"No!" She shouted, before fixing a reassuring smile on her lips. "Fashion emergency," she added, sure he wouldn't ask her to elaborate on that. "Where's your phone?"

"In my coat by the door." He was too bewildered to think much on it. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, thinking about his current uncomfortable state of arousal.

Blair kissed away the small frown lines marring his almost too-perfect features. "You're a big boy, I'm sure you can handle it on your own." Blair flounced out of the room, ignoring the way Nathaniel turned into the mattress, stifling a groan into his pillow.

Before she left, she fished Nathaniel's phone out of his coat pocket, deleting his recent messages. He'd find out soon enough anyway, but when he did she wanted the dust to have settled. His attention couldn't stray from her for any longer than necessary.

She marched out of The Palace elevator and into the Bass suite. She was mildly surprised that Bart had been the one to let her in. She examined the blooming bruise across his jaw with a small smile. "Ouch, you look _awful_." She forced her eyes to widen in concern. "Crossing guard catch you trolling on school grounds?" she asked sympathetically.

Bart gave a slow blink, unimpressed by the gibe. But he was a Bass and Blair had expected nothing less. "Serena's in Eric's room." He walked away without further comment, feeling Blair's acerbic gaze follow his movements.

Blair found Serena and Eric in the younger boy's bed. Serena's arms were stretched out. She was making a square with her forefingers and thumbs, squinting through it with one eye while her brother looked on with infinite patience.

As if sensing her presence, Serena sprung up. The blonds looked almost comically surprised. Eric turned to her, but before he could say anything his sister wrapped her arm around his head, hand covering his mouth. Blair tilted her head in irritation, but Eric smiled as his sister rolled off the bed in a stealthy movement, crawling across the floor till she reached the wall beside the door. Serena reached up, switching the light off. The room was drowned in darkness, hiding Serena from Blair's sight. She heard a noise and imagined it was Serena sitting up against the wall.

Blair let out an exasperated sound when she switched the light on only to have Serena flick it off immediately. "Does that ever actually work?" she asked, turning the light on and grabbing Serena's sneaking hand before it could touch the switch again.

"There's a first time for everything," Serena replied, but her eyes didn't match the mirth in her voice.

Blair stared coldly down at the girl who she'd just seen dry humping her ex on a car. "I'm not going anywhere," she announced unnecessarily.

Eric stood, uncomfortable watching the intensity shared between the girls in front of him. "I'm going to find something to eat." He paused when he was between them. "I'll dial nine-one and finish it off if I hear screams," he stage whispered to Serena before leaving.

Blair sat across from Serena, leaning back against the end of Eric's bed. Usually she'd sit beside her, close enough that they'd touch from shoulder to hip. But not today.

"Why, S?" Her voice didn't even shake.

Serena's head dipped, eyes falling to her lap. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She was so sick of those words. She never wanted to hear them again—never wanted to _have_ to hear them.

Blair drummed her fingers along the carpet in frustration. She'd come here with all sorts of nasty accusations running through her mind. Just looking at Serena sent a pang of unhappiness and mistrust through her body. Why did her opposition always have to be Serena? Why was her best friend born to intimidate other girls without even trying?

"Not good enough. Why _him_?" _The one boy who chose me first_.

"Because he was my friend too once. And I needed a friend." Serena said the words without inflection, plucking the end of her purple dress.

Blair scowled at that. _She_ was her friend, why would Serena need someone else? But the question was an answer in itself.

Serena needed a lot of things.

Like maybe some common sense.

"_Friend_? Where's my night in Trampsville?" The words lacked the malice they should have had, because there was no satisfaction in bringing Serena down when she was already low, especially when Blair had been feeling almost high—precariously close to being in a happy relationship.

Serena let out a tiny snicker. "You must be at least this tall to ride this ride," she pronounced, hand raised to her forehead.

Blair slumped down, unable to hold onto the hostility keeping her straight and firm. "What happened?"

Even the small smile on Serena's face disappeared. "Well, I'm glad you asked. See, when a man and a woman consume more alcohol than—" She stopped when she noticed Blair's glare. "We were drunk. It was a one night stand."

Blair could hear the confusion in Serena's voice. "And the argument?"

"He found out about...Bart." Their eyes met and Blair was reminded that Serena's conscience usually reared its head far too late and was all the more vicious for its tardiness.

Blair's eyes narrowed at the untruth, trying to figure out what sort of game Chuck was playing. She decided to keep the knowledge that Chuck had already known to herself, instead answering Serena's unspoken question without a prompt. "I didn't tell him."

Serena nodded absently, never having been concerned about that in the first place. She shifted until she sat by Blair's side, tentatively laying her head on the other girl's shoulder. A fierce _I fucking love you_ flashed through her mind, along with _and next time I'll remember that_.

Blair wrapped her hand around Serena's; it always felt unnatural to be in the same room and not touching. "What do _you_ want, S? With Bart, with Chuck?" Blair shut her eyes, pained that she was even considering _that_.

Serena stiffened in surprise, because that wasn't something she thought about anymore. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I want things with Bart to be...less hard. And I want to be Chuck's friend again."

"Just his friend?" She watched Serena closely, not letting anything go unnoticed.

"He hates me Blair."

Blair scoffed, not missing the way that Serena didn't answer her question. "Is that what that was?"

"I believe he referred to me as a 'Bass whore'," Serena said with a slightly bitter laugh. She tightened her hand around Blair's. "He loves _you_, B."

Blair couldn't help the way her heart cheered. But it soon sunk away, because love wasn't enough to make them work.

"And Nathaniel loves you," she replied blandly.

Serena's eyes widened in shock. "No! B—"

"_Yes_," she whispered viciously. And there are some things that are so true that once they're said you can't laugh them off, you can never take them back.

And she didn't even need to. Because love wasn't enough to make _them_ work either. Because Nate would always dream for things that couldn't be and Serena would always wander in search of them, and really, only one person in a relationship could be that unfocused.

Blair let out a small sigh. "But he loves me too, so it's okay." For years they'd shared Nathaniel between them and it had never been easy, but they survived. And if it ever came down to it they could survive another ten Nathaniels.

And Chuck.

Blair let Serena whisper words of reassurance, knowing she'd need every ounce of confidence for her next tête-à-tête.

**E/N: Yes. It is impossible for me to write a fic without gratuitous Waldsen moments. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Lol sorry for the NS scare, but he likes her on the show so trying to keep things in character. Yep, that's right, Serena can do Bart and Chuck, but foregoing Nate's crush? **

**That would be insanity.**

Blair was always cautious when entering Chuck's suite. She could die quite happily never knowing the secrets of 1812.

It was unusually quiet, no murmurs or music. The lights were switched off, moonlight painting the world in cold blues. She spared a quick glance at his bed. From the tangled limbs sticking out the bottom of the blanket it looked to be three girls, but she could have been wrong.

Chuck leaned against the window, one hand gripping the sill, the other—swathed in bandages—hung limply by his side. On anyone else it would be a whimsical pose; on Chuck whimsical seemed vaguely menacing.

But she was biased.

She stood on the other side of the window, facing him. She was glad he refused to look at her, she wasn't certain she wanted to know what was in his gaze at the moment.

"You're door was unlocked," she informed him, slightly curious.

He scanned her in his usual lecherous manner, but his thoughts were too distant to put any real effort into it. "No point in locking it," he said, turning back to the window.

Blair's brows knitted. She didn't understand his words and she didn't understand his mood, and she really didn't like feeling out of her depth. "No, of course not. You're probably only holding a million dollars worth of bowties and three missing hookers."

"They're _escorts_," he corrected automatically.

Chuck met her eyes with a slow blink, as if really seeing her for the first time. "What are you doing here?" he questioned unwelcomingly.

Blair put her hands on her hips with a defiant look. "What are you _doing_?" she demanded, barest edge of heat to her tone. "You slept with Serena. And then you had some major melt-down. _In public_." She touched his bandaged hand gently. "You hit your father didn't you?"

They were both speaking quietly, neither one wanting to deal with Chuck's _escorts_.

She let the perfect Queen Bee exterior fade to show genuine concern. "Talk to me," she commanded. (Queen Bee was never _that_ far.)

Chuck gave her a dark look, and anyone else would have backpedalled. "Why do you care?" _Why don't you care more?_

She closed her eyes for a long moment. She really didn't want to deal with this. Not with the wounds he'd opened still so tender. "Because I do." _More than I should_. "Just because I'm with Nate doesn't mean I don't. Now talk."

Her words were more of a comfort than he'd expected, and the pent up rage that had been strangling him all day seemed to loosen. "My father is a bastard." He wanted the words to be flippant, but they came out deep and gravelly.

Blair nodded. _Obviously_. "But what changed?"

"I assume you know what an excellent night I had yesterday?" he teased.

She managed a tight lipped smile, managing not to bite back. (They'd be talking about _that_ later.)

"My father fired me. Said I was a public disgrace," he sneered. "Because apparently we're allowed to be disgraceful—fucking our stepdaughters and whatnot—but doing it publicly crosses the line." He continued in a lighter tone, because he would not care that his father was banishing him. "So now it's off to college or the marines." He raised an amused brow. "I heard your BFF was getting a similar deal." _Couldn't even say her name anymore. _

Blair took in the information, already trying to find a way around their problems. No matter how mutilated her perfect plans were becoming, there were certain things that were nonnegotiable. And the N-JBC being separated was one of them. "Just like S to leave that part out," she sighed.

She waved a dismissive hand. "We'll figure something out. Your father doesn't exactly have a clean slate." She smoothed her hands along her dress, eyes narrowing with sudden determination. She remembered the real reason for coming. Her words came out with dangerous sweetness. "Now tell me what the hell you were thinking last night. Or which part were you thinking with?" She started pacing. "We blackmail Lily with her gross Brooklyn love-child. We get her away from Rufus. Lily unknowingly got Bart away from Serena. It was perfect."

She paused to glare at Chuck. "I didn't go to all that trouble just so you could fulfil some sick fantasy with _my best friend_!" She took a deep breath, waiting to see if she'd woken his guests. She continued in a quieter voice that still managed to convey her disgust. "Tell me the truth about you and Serena."

Chuck smirked, opening his mouth to reply.

She cut in before he could say whatever perverted line he was about to give her. "And think about your words Bass, because whatever _we_ are, it does not give you free reign to use Serena as a cheap drunken lay."

Blair knew exactly what her friend's 'standards' were on tequila-soaked nights. But it was Blair's job to protect Serena from Serena (and vice versa), and God help Chuck if he had just made Blair fail at it—the only job that really mattered.

He eyed her cautiously. "What else would she be?" _Give me something, anything, because I can't describe it._

Blair wanted to stamp her foot, because this was going to be impossible if Chuck and Serena insisted on being emotionally stunted commitment-phobes. She tried to read something behind his mask of indifference, but the only thing she could see was how perfectly restrained his emotions were.

"What was the argument about? And don't tell me the lies you told S, because you know and I know that you weren't so concerned about her affair when you were all naked and sweaty." And she would not visualise that at all.

He stiffened, mask cracking to reveal something angry and confused. "Her and _Bart_..." _He_ _could not say 'father'_. "It wasn't just sex."

"What?" she asked, honestly confused.

"I saw them..._hugging_." It came out like a dirty word, because it freaked him out a lot more than sex. "He _comforted_ her. What if there's more to it?" It came out in a rush. He tried really hard not to sound desperate.

Blair tried not to smile, but Chuck rarely looked so cute. His eyes were all wide with a _tell me there's no such thing as the bogeyman_ expression. "It's never about sex," she explained softly.

He scowled at her insanity. "It's _always_ about sex."

"No. It's not." She waved a hand at his bed and its occupants and _were they really getting paid to sleep_? "_That_ is not about sex."

He gave a delicate snort. "If you believe that, you should have been here half an hour earlier."

"It's not," she insisted.

"Then what is it?" he humoured her.

"A diversion." She could see it now: him and Serena and their games of move-so-fast-the-truth-can't-find-you. "From me. From Serena. From anything that could hurt you. And do I really have to explain Serena and Bart? With all her daddy issues even doctor Phil couldn't miss this one."

"You're delusional," he told her, but looked uneasily towards his bed.

She thought so too. She was _helping_ the guy who broke her heart get a chance at the only girl who'd done the same. She smacked his chest and he gave her a surprised look. She needed his full attention, because this was a onetime thing. "You _ruined_ us." _But not me_, she had to remind herself for the thousandth time. "Ruined us with your sleaze, because you couldn't man-up and risk getting hurt." A quiet bitterness slipped into her words.

Chuck was a hair's breadth away from looking repentant. He didn't like regret. "I didn't—"

"No." She held up a hand to wave off his words, because that was over and she wouldn't go there again. "And you're doing the same thing now. For whatever reason, probably because she's weak and vulnerable, you have a shot with S—the only other girl you've ever cared about. Don't mess it up."

Chuck gave her a searching look. "What do I do?"

"Be the adult. _Talk to her_," she huffed.

He looked petulant. "Why do I have to be the adult?"

"Because we'll be here forever if you're waiting for S to do it."

**xoxoxo**

Chuck had always loathed breakfast. How did people eat this early in the morning? He wondered how Serena stood it after getting clean the last time. This morning's tension made the meal officially intolerable.

It had almost been funny. Serena was running late for work again. Lily was confused over what Serena was running late for. Bart informed Serena that she no longer had a job (to give her more time to prepare for Brown). And then Serena coughing up toast crumbs all over the table while Lily chastised her and Eric clapped her on the back.

When Lily and Eric left, Serena followed Bart into the foyer.

She latched onto his wrist. "You can't just take over my life." She tried desperately to sound calm and adult; she knew how little he'd respect her if she sounded as young and hysterical as she felt.

He gently removed her grip. "I'll stop when you can do it for yourself."

Serena was left alone, staring dully at the door.

"You should be proud." Chuck said, coming up behind her. "Father Dearest would have cut up another credit card, if I'd so much as implied any ownership over my life."

"Comforting," she sighed, still not looking at him.

Serena's blonde mane was pulled into a loose braid; it made it easier to see her delicate features. Chuck was surprised by how tired and thin she looked. Her navy eyes seemed huge and too weary.

"Can we talk?" he asked casually.

"That sounds awful," Serena blurted with a grimace.

"Yeah," he agreed vehemently, silently cursing Blair.

He wondered if he should touch her, but decided to shove his hands in his pockets instead.

"S," he said to get her attention. She met his eyes evenly, pulling herself together at the sound of her old nickname. "I'm sorry about what I did...About the elevator and stuff," he clarified, because he didn't want her to think he was sorry about the sex.

She plucked at the end of her silk scarf. "It's okay."

He shook his head. It really wasn't. She'd hugged his father and he'd punished her by being vicious and cruel. He wanted to be the one she came to for comfort, but he'd done absolutely nothing to earn her trust.

He wanted to find the words: words to tell her that he didn't know how to be nice, but that he'd learn for her. That was his only chance of deserving her.

"You don't have to be nice, S. I was out of line. Maybe you could slap me or something?" he teased, his voice coming out rough.

She laughed—it was a shadow of her normal bright sound. "You'd like that _way_ too much," she said with a quirked eyebrow. "It's okay. Really. You were...shocked. And I was wrong...about you and Bart and stuff. And can I just say, you've made an astonishing amount of progress in the last," she checked her nonexistent watch, "twenty hours or so."

She took a step towards him, automatically reaching up to turn his collar down over his knitted vest.

"I'm glad that's cleared up," he said inanely, trying not to make any sudden movements under her ministrations.

She snatched her hands away anyway. "Uhuh. Promise never to pop your collar again and we're good."

He scowled. "It was an _accident_. I forgot."

She shrugged, eyes filled with mirth.

He was just going to blurt it out. Something stupid and true. _I like you_ or something trite like that, just the kind of thing Serena always fell for. Before he could open his mouth, she threw her arms around his neck—but it didn't carry her usual emphatic affection. It felt forced, as if latching on to _normal _never quite worked. She disappeared from his grasp before he could even appreciate it, running out the door to get her job back.

He really wished she'd slow down sometimes.

**E/N: Is document manager uploading stuff for anyone else? :( Had to edit an old doc to update. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: A hard PG. Though if you've made it this far, I really doubt **_**this **_**would corrupt you. **

Serena had never faced rejection before. Not really. Not like this.

Bart had made her feel safe and now he turned her into a wreck.

She honestly thought she'd find a way to change his mind. She'd smile and play with his tie and he'd change his mind.

But he didn't. He didn't budge. He didn't even waver.

She felt useless, and then angry and then...nothing.

That happened sometimes.

Chuck let her in without a word. She passed him, heading for the liquor cabinet.

All of her friends had their own signature brand of comfort: Blair would give her croissants and Audrey; Nate would give her hash and laughter; and Chuck would give her scotch and the truth.

Well, technically she _took_ his scotch. But that was neither here nor there.

She poured a double in each of the tumblers.

Chuck faked a long suffering sigh. "My flawless taste is wasted on you."

Serena rolled her eyes. It was an old argument. She'd always be a gin and whiskey gal and no amount of_this bottle could have bought a small island _was going to change her mind.

She spun in half circles on the breakfast bar stool. "Let's make sure it's not the only thing wasted," she muttered.

The minute she'd walked in his heart had started to beat faster. That was new. His stomach clenched with an instant flash of desire. That wasn't.

It wasn't that she didn't notice the way his gaze strayed to the way her seasonally inappropriate sundress rode up her thighs, she just had nothing to say about it.

It didn't feel like something that was _just Chuck_. It felt bigger. More. And infinitely less simple.

He watched her sip the scotch slowly—probably for his benefit. It reminded him of when she'd get in a fight with Blair. She'd come to his suite with an uncharacteristic smirk, they'd drink and swap dirty stories. Both of them enjoyed annoying her best friend, but only Chuck would ever admit it.

"You're here to get back at my father," he guessed, not sure how he felt about it. Theoretically he approved of anything that made his father suffer, but he didn't want Serena here for his father.

She gave him a wide-eyed look that transformed into fondness. "When did you get so smart, Chucky?" She tugged his arm till he sat on the stool beside hers.

"Living with you," he shot back. "Nature abhors a vacuum."

Behind the flippant words and familiar tones, there were things unsaid, lines undrawn, and it all had the ring of impatience.

She watched the way he swirled his glass, his gaze carefully avoiding hers. She put a palm over his glass, pushing it away from his lips. Just as easily she replaced it with her lips. It was soft and moist and almost chaste, but it made her want more. She held onto his collar, opening his shirt so she could press open-mouthed kisses into his neck.

"Don't," he growled.

She rolled her eyes up to take in his expression of almost-pain.

"Don't touch me and think of him," he growled, eyes closed tight.

She leaned away from him, turning back to her drink. "I thought we already established that I _never_ think," she teased wryly.

Maybe he had apologised. But that didn't change the fact that he'd been disgusted by her. Going for the father and the son? _Classy, S_, her Blair-voiced conscience piped-up.

"And don't do that either," he commanded, eyes fixing heatedly on hers.

"What?"

"Don't lower yourself. Don't pretend that you make mistakes just because that's who you are. _It's not_." The words were clear and sure, as if he'd never had a doubt.

She hid a humourless smile behind her drink. She didn't have a fucking clue who she was.

Maybe it was enough that Chuck did.

She tilted her head to the side, lips quirking into something sweet and dangerous. "I wasn't thinking of him."

Chuck remained impassive. He was not a school boy or a fucking Humphrey. It took a hell of a lot more to get a Bass worked up. "Dangerous territory, S—you haven't even finished one drink."

"So?" she asked.

"Someone might get the impression that I'm not just a drunken booty-call. Someone could mistake _this_ for a relationship," he whispered ominously.

She tried in vain to read the expression in his eyes. His dark lashes looked heavy; it was almost a lazy expression, or maybe predatory.

He might not lie, but she did.

Because she had thought about this. A lot. She'd poked and prodded and tried to force their relationship back into the box it had once belonged—the one labelled _friends_.

She might have given up her reformed princess role, but she couldn't go back to what she'd been before that. That girl was gone. And if she saw that girl—the one she used to be—on the street, she'd probably cross to the other side.

And Chuck wasn't the same. He'd been dragged kicking and screaming over the threshold of adulthood. Some of that was loving Blair, but a lot of that was just him. There was no going back for Chuck either.

They'd grown-up.

They'd outgrown their box.

She leaned towards him, but stopped, making him move the last inch. There was nothing soft or chaste about this kiss. It was hard, and wild, with just a hint of desperation.

She was the one to pull back first.

"I could live with that," she told him huskily.

"What?" he asked, brows furrowed in concentration.

"A relationship."

Chuck stilled. Perceptiveness told him that the glib sounding words were anything but casual. He could see it in the way she tilted her chin—a challenge, defiance, _you can hurt me_.

But he knew better. S didn't do relationships well. There were always boundaries and reservations.

Dan had her as the perfect girlfriend, Carter got her when she was free and running, and Nate got her as an ideal (but only once, thank God).

She cut herself in pieces, so no one person could own her all.

And Chuck didn't do anything by halves.

He stood, pulling her to her feet. He trapped her face between his hands. They would be _real_ or they would be nothing. He wasn't going to risk another friendship for an easy lay.

"I want you. _A lot_. I can't even— There's no comparison." The words were almost too serious, but he'd worry about finding his pride after. She was all flighty capriciousness and angel hair, and none of it was reassuring.

She gave a tight smile. He was being cautious and steady, and she didn't know this side of Chuck very well. "I want you too. I _like_you. That's kinda what my offer was about." She shook off his hands, leaving him behind so she could fall onto his oversized bed.

"What about my father?" he shot out.

"Over and done with," she said, making the decision then and there. It wasn't exactly a difficult choice, but it still sent a pang of hurt through her body.

He watched her stretch in his bed. It was almost enough to make him forget his suspicions. _Almost_.

"What if Carter comes back?"

"Then I'll steal his social security number. For your enjoyment."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "What if Dan dumps his Hollywood girlfriend and writes you some crappy sonnet?"

"I'll be sure to send it your way. You can laugh at it over drinks _and me_," she tempted.

Instinctively he crawled closer to her. "What if you and Nate end up drunk in an abandoned bar?" he asked darkly, as if his words alone could conjure up nights long passed.

She groaned, turning towards him. "Then I'll offer him a three-way."

He pulled back with a glare.

She rolled him onto his back, straddling him before he could move away. "What do you want Chuck?"

"A guarantee," he said honestly. He was already falling fast and she wasn't a safety net kind of girl.

She captured his hands, pushing them over his head. "Then get a washing machine."

He imagined she'd be do rough play better than most.

Serena was leaning over him and he could see straight down her top, which meant there was no more room in his head for witty remarks, but he still managed to get out a strangled warning."Fine. No guarantees. But if you do this, you better be here in the morning." He told himself it wasn't a begging: _it was a deal_.

He was rewarded with an almost too-brilliant grin.

He made a mental note to never negotiate with her.

**XOXOXO**

He woke up naked and cold. (The price of sleeping with an unrepentant covers hog.) Blearily he shuffled over until he could bury his face in the nape Serena's neck, wrapping an arm around her blanket-covered and most likely _warm _body.

He'd woken up this way every morning this week.

And he wouldn't mind waking up like this for a long time. And for some reason that didn't scare him.

He considered going back to sleep, but they only had this short reprieve.

Bart had been called away on a business trip, so they were doing their best with the time they had.

Neither of them had broached the subject of what would happen when he came back, demanding they separate and disappear to a state where no one cared about Bass Industries.

He pressed his lips into her neck, letting a hand skim under the blanket, down the front of Serena's body.

He sat up a little so that he could watch her expression. He cupped her breast and her pink lips parted, the softest sigh escaping. Gently he played over the silken skin till it pebbled under his thumb. Serena's eyelashes fluttered, but didn't open. He leaned down to graze the barest edge of teeth over her throat. She squirmed and he gripped her tighter.

"_Chuck_," she whined, arching into his hands even as she complained.

"Morning," he purred.

She struggled under the tangle of sheets till she could turn in his arms. Chuck was wearing a small smile, clearly pleased with himself. She graciously covered him with the edge of her covers.

"What is your problem with letting me sleep in?" she pouted.

His eyes travelled over her face, because it was still new and just a little surreal. "Blame Blair for making us watch Sleeping Beauty so many times. I'm always on board for the whole fondling of unconscious princesses."

He ran his finger along her chest, gently edging the covers down.

She let out a sleep roughened laugh. "I don't think that was part of the story."

"Really?" he asked, not caring. "It _should_ have been."

She slapped away his roving hand, springing from the bed. "I'm heading to the family suite." She did her best to be home before the family woke up. It wasn't that her mother wouldn't find out, but she figured being too obvious would be tempting fate.

Chuck didn't respond, deciding to watch her get dressed instead. She should have gone into the bathroom if she didn't want an audience.

Secretly he though their cautiousness was a good idea, but he never wanted it to get out that he'd chosen reason over morning sex.

Not that anyone would believe it.

Serena left quickly, knowing Eric would probably be waking up any minute.

She rushed out of the elevator, with her heels still in her hand—for a stealth advantage. Her eyes widened in shock. Someone was already in the suite, waiting for the elevator.

Rufus took in her hastily-put-together appearance even as she scanned his.

His clothes were crumpled and his hair stood in odd tufts. His gave her an even look—he wasn't a guilty child and he wouldn't act like one.

"Serena," he greeted hesitantly.

"Hey Rufus," she replied quietly.

He gave her the most reassuring smile he could manage. "Your mother's in the kitchen."

She nodded, it was a clear _ask her_. "Okay."

She walked to the kitchen. Lily was leaning against the bench, a coffee cup in her hand. She was dressed in a silky cream robe. Her yellow-blonde hair was in loose waves around her face. Serena was by struck by how young her mother looked.

Lily watched her approach with cool blue eyes. "So this is when you come in. I wondered..."

Serena let out a delicate snort at the subtle warning. She knew she was in no position to throw stones. She leaned against the bench, holding back any inappropriate questions.

"Can I have a coffee?" she asked weakly.

She didn't know what was on her face, but it made her mother's eyes widen in alarm.

Lily put her cup down, reaching her daughters side in a few steps. Serena was wearing a short wrinkled dress that showed too much cleavage. Her mascara was smudged and her hair wasn't brushed. And if her suspicions were correct, she'd just crawled out of her step-brother's bed. But somehow, in the early morning light, biting her already chafed lip, she was still her little girl—the same one who'd wake up in the middle of the night to find luggage by the door and her mother preparing to leave, but still knew better than to ask her to stay.

Lily pulled Serena into her arms, knowing Serena was too jaded to believe in her mother's hugs anymore. But Serena hugged her back. Her daughter always would, no matter how angry or disillusioned she was. Lily patted her back comfortingly.

"I didn't think you even got along with Bart," Lily murmured carefully.

Serena smothered a small laugh into her mother's shoulder.

**XOXOXO**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I feel like I'm writing a telenovela. This story has got me totally whipped. I think I know what's happening now. Critique is always welcome. **

**XOXOXO**

Serena was going to make it her life's goal to never have another deep and meaningful with her mother.

There were things that she didn't want to know. Things that she shouldn't know—_for the sake of her sanity_.

Like her mother's sex life.

Lily was having an affair with Rufus. Lily was _in love_ with her ex-boyfriend's father.

That wasn't even the surprising part.

(Lily was always in love.)

Her mother was kind of vague on the details, but from what Serena understood, her mother couldn't leave Bart due to some horrible past deed. Said scandal was now hovering over the head of her mother and Rufus, should she divorce Bart.

Her mother hadn't told Serena what she had done that was so terrible and she didn't know who was orchestrating the threat.

But her mother didn't have Bart's safe code.

And Serena now wished she didn't either.

_A brother_.

Somewhere out there she had a sibling. A brother.

Her, and Eric, and _Dan_ had a half-brother.

Serena took her own file, but put her mother's back. Lily's was twice the size of her own, and Serena just didn't want to know anything else. She ended up wandering Central Park aimlessly, passing two young teens trying to get rid of a litter of kittens. She felt a lot like a forlorn character from one of Blair's movies. The pathetic drizzle of frosty rain reminded her that she was not that character.

She was the mistress or unsympathetic rival at best.

Shivering and unhappy she made her way back to the Palace.

Chuck opened the door and she brushed past him, shaking her hair out.

He took in her appearance, pursing his lips into a disapproving line. He knew there would be little point in asking her why she was soaked and frozen; she'd only answer with one of her usual thoughtless enigmas.

"What is that in your hand?" he asked, with a twist of his lips and a sneer in his voice.

She blinked wet lashes up at him. "It's a kitten..."

He tried not to grit his teeth, already seeing where this conversation was leading. "And you have it because...?"

He walked towards the bathroom.

She looked down at the quaking fur ball held close to her body. She stroked it's overly large head and miniscule body with a tender hand. "It was the last one. And it was _all alone_. And then it started to _rain_. And it was so _cold_." She looked at Chuck with uncertain doe eyes.

The way she was biting her lip was just plain overkill.

"Serena," he warned.

She took the offered towel from his hands, immediately using it to bundle the kitten.

He closed his eyes for a second before walking back to the bathroom for another towel.

He took her light coat off, deciding it would be best to just wrap her in the towel himself. He didn't want anything else soiled by the mangy looking thing in her hands.

He led her towards the lounge and she slipped out of her heels before curling up on one end. He sat beside her, turning back towards his open laptop on the coffee table. He still had to finish up the reports he'd been working on for his father.

Bart Bass really was a piece of work.

"So can he stay here?" she asked plaintively.

"No," he said unequivocally, a tone that should have stopped any further conversation.

"But he needs a home." She tried to sound normal, knowing in the back of her mind the desperation she felt was probably not the healthiest reaction.

Chuck turned away from the monitor, narrowing his eyes to study the blonde. "What's going on?" he asked after a pause.

"Nothing." It was basically true. Her life, _their life_, really, was still a home balanced on that precarious edge, where nobody could move too fast or speak too honestly without the chance of bringing it all down.

He picked up the bundled cat, giving it a disparaging appraisal. "I live in a hotel suite." _And even that's an uncertainty. _

"But it's not like they can kick you out," she argued hopefully.

"I do not like...cats," he pronounced carefully.

"Well, it's a _kitten_. Everyone likes them," she pointed out reasonably.

"But I'll...figure something out." Serena gave him a sweet smile before he continued. "_If_ you tell me the truth. All of it."

Serena's face fell, eyes turning troubled. She wanted to tell him. That may have even been why she came.

But she didn't want to be disloyal. She didn't want Chuck to turn on her mother. And she didn't want to lay more of her problems at his feet.

It was kind of like with Dan. She wanted Chuck to _want_ to be around her, so she needed to hide some of the messier pieces of her life—keep things tidy and simple and _attractive_. They'd been 'together' for barely a week; it was probably too soon for the whole 'my world is out of control' spiel.

But, strangely enough, Chuck was really good at kissing her on the forehead and making things feel...steady, like the world would slow down because Chuck Bass said so.

She looked down at herself and walked towards his closet. If she was going to messy up his life, she should at least keep his lounge dry.

Chuck watched curiously as Serena emerged wearing his gym sweatshirt from St Jude's. _Another to add to her collection_. He placed the cat on the floor as she perched on the arm of the chair.

Quickly and quietly she told him the basic problem. _Affair_. _Scandal_. _Adopted kid._

"Can you help me find their child? Please, Chuck?"

Chuck listened quietly, careful to wipe any thoughts from his face.

She waited expectantly after finishing.

He cocked his head to the side. "What do you care about their marriage?"

The words were brash and unkind and _true_. Serena moved to look out the window. The city looked dreary, but still better than her. It just moved. Even when she was tumbling, it just kept going—perfectly unaffected.

"I don't know." It was the only answer she could give without sounding like a deluded hypocrite. (Can't break something then say you liked it better before.)

She wanted her mother to be happy. And things with Bart were extraordinarily fucked up. But this was still her life and her family, and just once she wanted a chance to fix things—to have a constant, even a precarious one. But—her mother and Bart—_they'd_ rip her life out from under her, given the chance.

Chuck came to stand beside her, sliding an arm around her back."Why do you want to find Rufus and Lily's...Why do you want to find him?"

She gave a small shrug. Her mother and father hadn't made things easy. She had done her best to convince Eric that they were wanted, even if they weren't _convenient_. But she'd still failed and her baby brother had ended up all alone. And now she had a brother that had actually been given up.

And by not doing anything she'd fail again.

She pulled away from Chuck's arm, walking backwards in long strides. "How did you know they had a boy?" she asked suspiciously. She hadn't told him; she was sure of it. Serena wasn't as smart as Blair, or as perceptive as Chuck, but she had _intuition_. And she knew Chuck.

Chuck just raised an amused eyebrow. "Excuse my lack of gender-neutral language. What was I supposed to say? _It_?"

Serena shook her head. The amusement had never reached his eyes. "I don't believe you," she whispered. "You did this. All of it. You...blackmailed my mother."

Chuck took a step towards her, reaching out to grab her arm. She pulled away, taking another stride away from him. "You knew I had a brother and you never said anything!"

"It wasn't like that," he said, mind working quickly to find a way to smooth things over, but those betrayed blue eyes made him stumble over his own excuses.

She hadn't really thought he'd admit it. "God Chuck, since when does Bart need you to do his dirty work?"

"It was _not_ for my father," he hissed, heated and intense.

Serena ignored him.

Chuck stood, frozen and unmoving. Serena was just a trail of blonde hair and bare legs heading for his door. He felt young and useless. If she wanted to leave he couldn't stop her.

_Fuck_ that.

What right did she have to come into his life, all sunshine and giggles and then leave, taking that fucking sunshine whenever the hell she pleased?

"Where you running to this time, princess?" he asked in a sardonic purr. His hands curled into fists under the strain of forcing himself to relax.

The words struck the way he knew they would.

Serena spun on her heel, arms crossing. "I am not _running_."

Chuck curled his lips into a mockery of a smile, glancing away as if uninterested. "You could at least be honest about it."

He knew he needed to do something fast to make her stay. He closed the distance between them. Serena watched him warily. "Stop looking for an excuse to run. If you don't want..._whatever_ we are, then just leave."

Serena was torn between confusion and outrage. "_Chuck_! You _blackmailed_ my mother!"

He couldn't help it. She was just so infuriating. "For you!"

"...What?"

Chuck let out a long breath. "For you, S. I got Lily back with my father to keep him away from you."

Serena clutched the edge of her shirt, brows furrowed. "You...? But..." She shook her head. "I can't do this, Chuck."

Chuck didn't respond. He wasn't even sure he breathed.

"You can't control my life...Not with blackmail and espionage and _lies_. I make mistakes, but they're mine and you can't just come in and take over. That's what _he_ does."

"Fine. It won't—"

Serena waved his words away. She'd known him since kindergarten "It will. That's who you are."

His face closed down, cold and emotionless "So this is it then."

Her eyes went wide. "This is just...I need to think. I'll talk to you later."

She wanted to leave then, couldn't stay, didn't know if she'd come back, but Chuck's eyes were just so cynical. She sprung forward, planting a quick kiss on his impassive cheek. "I _will_." _This is not goodbye_. _It just feels that way_.

**XOXOXO**

Chuck stopped waiting for Serena a week later.

He kept the fur ball...Just in case.

**XOXOXO**

Bart had been gone for three and a half weeks, but time moved differently in the van der Bass household.

He'd come back to find that everything had regressed. Eric hadn't come home after school. Lily was gone: whereabouts unknown. Chuck was absent: probably drunk or unconscious in his suite.

Once none of that wouldn't have bothered him.

He missed those times.

He didn't hesitate outside of Serena's room. He knocked, loud and sure. "Serena."

She could send him away if that's what she wished. He actually hoped that's what she wanted, because he really wasn't in the mood to get into another argument.

The report he'd received from the family's security agent had painted a sordid picture.

Eric had to be prescribed new anti-depressants. Serena had continued to see Chuck for some time. And his wife was having an affair with Rufus Humphrey.

The door swung open so violently he nearly took a step back, but he'd learnt a long time ago what a flinch could cost.

He had meant to convince Serena to go to Brown sooner rather than later, but her appearance made him think twice.

Her face was free of make-up, dark circles marring her eyes. She was wearing a men's sweatshirt that, thankfully, looked too large to be Chuck's.

Her hollow eyes narrowed and for a minute she didn't look like Serena at all.

The look disappeared and she opened the door further, gesturing for him to come inside. He entered cautiously—he'd seen the Rhodes in her.

She lounged on the end of her bed. The shirt hit her around mid-thigh, but he would have preferred she was wearing something more appropriate.

"I suppose you're here to give me my marching orders," she pronounced lazily, fingers running over her bedspread.

Serena's thin frame looked as vulnerable as he could imagine and it only reinforced his convictions. "We discussed this."

She tilted her head, almost smiling. "Did we?" She stood, moving into arm's reach. "I don't remember that conversation...My bad."

She fingered his tie and he barely stopped himself from backing up. She closed the distance between them and he lost the battle—moving backwards till the door stopped him. She followed every movement until she was the one pressing him up against the door.

He didn't want to feel anything. His mind was telling him to push her away. _Run_, _God damn it. _But his body knew her touch. His body was enthralled with the mere promise of what she could do.

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching. "What are you doing?"

Deftly she unbuttoned his shirt. "I'll give you three guesses."

The words were right; the tone was right. It was all Serena: immature yet cynical, playful and devious, natural but without even a hint of normal. But the fingers trailing down his chest, the thigh pressed between his legs—something just felt off.

Her hand gripped his hair, dragging him down into a hard press of lips.

He opened his eyes with a steadying breath. Serena must have shed her shirt sometime.

She pulled away the moment his eyes snapped open.

Standing in her underwear, wide navy eyes dark and confused, all he could think about was how very _young _she looked.

She moved away. Sitting back on her haunches, she pulled her balled up shirt into her chest. "...You should go."

Breath choppy, he slipped out her door.

His attention was immediately drawn down to the dim shadow at the end of the hall.

His son sipped a glass of amber liquor.

The look on his face was nothing but wintery. Cold and inhuman.

Bart stayed silent. They were too far passed _it isn't what it looks like_.

Chuck raised his glass, words something dark and slippery. "Welcome home."


End file.
